The West Wing - What Happened Next (Season 5)
by Amanda'sArmada
Summary: A look at what The West Wing could have been, if Aaron Sorkin hadn't left. Features the whole cast - the Bartlets, Leo, Toby, C.J. and Danny, Josh and Donna, everyone. Takes place at the beginning of season 5, after episode 1, continues through end of series (each season will be a separate "story", all containing multiple chapters for the respective episodes).
1. Forward

(Chapter 1?): Forward by Author

I know I'm not the only fan who was deeply disappointed with some of the choices made after Aaron Sorkin left, and the more I thought about it, the more I got the feeling that I wanted to give a whack at it myself, to try and recapture the a semblance of the sense of passion and optimism and camaraderie that Sorkin did so well. This is my attempt, which starts following the first episode of season 5.

Some storylines will be taken right from the show, others will be my own, although I'll try to stay true to the spirit and style of the show during the first four seasons. A lot of the first few chapters will be pulled right from the series, and a disclaimer is needed - these sections are not intended to be taken as my own, but rather to supplement and guide the story as it gradually deviates from the official show. Eventually my story will shift from canon almost entirely, although hopefully in an honest, authentic way. A lot of the official season 6 and 7 storylines will be cut, such as the shuttle leak, and dramatic changes will occur during the final campaign (one being that we'll hear less about the campaign in the first place, and focus more on the original main characters). There will also be very big changes to season 5.

Another key difference is that there will be four "seasons" to this story - it's been pointed out that the show effectively "skips" a year (Bartlet's second term begins halfway through season 4, thus season 5 begins June 2003, and season 7 ends January 2007, and the last half of the series is only a couple of months - meaning we see four years of time pass in only three seasons). Accordingly, my story will be four "seasons", with each season/story consisting of multiple chapters. Ideally, this will allow more exploration of the characters, as well as the political aspects of Bartlet's time in office.

Thus, my story will feature every main character of the show before Aaron left, and have some (hopefully) interesting political subplots, while remaining primarily a character-driven show. New issues will be raised, relationships will be explored in more depth, and so on.

Given the subject matter, the first few chapters are pretty dark, but afterwards the story lightens, and I plan on having a lot of heartfelt and funny stuff, with a healthy splash of drama. Just putting that in there, because I don't want to put potential readers off by the initial violence.

BTW, I'll go ahead and be upfront: my main ship is C.J./Danny, but I promise throughout the story, there will be scenes featuring Josh/Donna, Jed/Abbey, Toby/Andy, Charlie/Zoey, and possibly Sam/Ainsley (spoiler alert!). I guess one strong deviation off the bat is that I don't plan on writing too much Amy Gardner. She never really clicked with me, for whatever reason, so she just might pull a Mandy here and vanish completely.

I hope you enjoy, and please feel free to tell me what you think!

_**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters created by Aaron Sorkin, and all excerpts and borrowed storylines from The West Wing are the property of NBC. No copyright infringement is intended._


	2. The Dogs of War

**Title: **The West Wing – What Happened Next

**Episode 2: **The Dogs of War

**Author:** AmandasArmada

**Rating:** T

**Companion Episode:** The Dogs of War

TEASER

Leo McGarry sat at his desk with his back straight, carefully concealing his sweaty palms, making sure they had been discreetly rubbed dry before asking Margaret to send in the Qumari ambassador.

The man entered a moment later, sitting himself across from him. The ambassador gazed at him, clearly affronted.

"Thanks for coming in, Mr. Ambassador," Leo drawled.

The man nodded. "I must first say, I wish to express the Crown Prince's outrage at the brutal assassination of his cousin, and his sadness with the events of the last days."

Leo stared at him. "That's funny. I wish to express the President of the United States's outrage at the planned bombing of the Golden Gate Bridge by the former Qumari Defense Minister – God rest his soul. Of course, I wouldn't want to take attention away from the President's more current outrage, which rather supersedes his grief over your fallen Royal."

The ambassador's lips tightened. "If you have sufficient evidence to prove this accusation..."

"We can't share it, and you damn well know it," Leo said, bristling. "I'm not discussing this. I brought you in here to inform you that we're bombing the Kazir training camps in Tamir and Lani."

The ambassador stood, startled. "When?" he demanded.

"Right now," Leo replied.

OPENING CREDITS

"Did you ask Ginger?" Josh asked, walking with Donna through the bullpen.

"Yeah," she nodded. "She said it was a no."

Josh ran his hands through his hair, clearly aggravated. "That's _it_!" He exclaimed.

Josh paced through the cubicles, shouting at Donna, Toby, Will, and anyone else who would listen.

"I talked to Leo. _None _of us were invited. The Republicans are meeting in secret. They're plotting to start legislating. Partial birth abortion, school vouchers – these are key issues, and all we can do is twiddle our thumbs!" He lowered his voice. "I told you this was a mistake. The entire Democratic party has been rendered powerless. They're going to force through legislation that Bartlet wouldn't sign in a million years - we have to fight back, we have to _get serious_!" He shouted, giving a jump and slapping the ceiling in frustration.

"We have to focus on finding a Vice-President," Will argued. "Walken didn't sound like he was messing around. If they introduce legislation, we'll fight it, but the whole country wants to know our government is still strong, and I think there's a chance if Walken appoints someone, enough Democrats will bend. This _is_ serious, Josh. A Republican could get confirmed. That has to come first. We have to protect the office, and the party."

"I'm _trying_ to protect the party!" Josh yelled.

"Josh," Toby interrupted. "Take a breath. Will's right. If a Republican bill is opened up, you'll be the first one on the Hill, whipping votes. In the meantime, we need to leak it to the Press what the Republicans are planning, and we need to settle on a VP." Josh groaned. "Come on," Toby said sternly. "Let's get to work." He turned to Will. "And _you_," he sighed. "Come on. We've got some speeches to write."

COMMERCIAL

"Good morning everyone. First of all, the White House would like to extend its congratulations on President Walken's successor as Speaker of the House, Jeffrey Haffley." She cleared her throat. "Now, I'm going to kick this briefing off with a breaking story that's sure to be a big one in the next few news cycles." C.J. looked around the room. "Late last night, President Walken ordered the attack of three Kazir training camps located in Qumar, which Intelligence informs us have been posing under the guise of religious schools. Twenty planes, consisting of 12 F-14B Tomcats and 8 F-A18E Super Hornets, flying off the U.S.S. George Washington in the Persian Gulf, bombed three strategic targets - early estimates on fatalities are still being calculated. All twenty carriers were successful, and are currently en route home. Chris."

"C.J., is there concern within the White House that the bombing of the religious schools will lead the suspected kidnappers to murder Zoey Bartlet?"

"As I said, these were not religious schools, they are confirmed terrorist training camps. As to your question, of course the concern has been raised, but President Walken feels it is important to convey the message to any and all enemies of America's freedom that the United States does not negotiate with terrorists." She took a deep breath, hating herself. She spotted Danny watching her from the back, and tried to steady her footing, feeling faint.

"Should we take that to mean that there is still uncertainty as to whether Qumari terrorists are behind the kidnapping?"

"No, Steve, it was a figure of speech. The FBI and Secret Service are confident that Kazir terrorists are the perpetrators of this attack on our nation."

"C.J., has President Bartlet been briefed on the attack on Qumari camps, and if so, did the briefing take place before or after the strikes were carried out - and did he have a comment?"

"No comment," C.J. replied, deliberately being ambiguous about the first half of the question.

"C.J." Katie wasn't buying it, and neither were the others.

"President Bartlet was notified after the mission was carried out. He is stationed in the residence with the First Lady and their family, where he will remain throughout the day, working with FBI agents to track information relating to his daughter's disappearance."

x-x-x-x-x-x

Jed Bartlet stood in the residence, gazing out the window onto the grounds.

FLASHBACK: October 1998

"Daddy, you're coming, right? You promised." Zoey's voice drifted over the line as she stood next to her mother in a dressing room in New Hampshire, a powder blue dress draped over her.

"I promised you I would, didn't I?" He tried to sound jovial. "I'm going to do everything in my power to be there," he assured her.

"If you don't, I guess I'll get to wear the red dress with the low neckline," Zoey teased, knowing it would get under her father's skin.

"_Hmph._ The Secret Service itself couldn't keep me away," Jed promised, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.

x-x-x-x-x-x

C.J. hurried from the briefing room as quickly as possible, but still wasn't able to evade the redheaded reporter who had spent the past ten minutes trying to decide whether or not he should make eye contact with her.

"Danny, what are you doing here?" she asked exasperatedly, turning a corner.

"C.J., you don't get banned from the press room for printing a story the President doesn't want released. I work here."

"Yeah, well, I don't think anyone's told President Walken that," she said tightly, her eyes scanning the hall for any sign of one of Walken's men. Danny gazed at her steadily.

"I can take care of myself, C.J.," Danny said quietly.

She met his gaze with hesitancy, summoning her breath from deep in her throat. "Just...tread lightly, okay?"

"Well, that's what I'm known for. Keeping my head down, never stirring up trouble." Danny gave her a small smile. C.J. didn't return it.

"I'm serious, Danny."

He looked at her, communicating paragraphs with his eyes. "I know, C.J. I appreciate it."

She nodded, averting her gaze to the ground as she stepped past him.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Leo, the Republicans are meeting again, and my money is on serious, sweeping legislation being a top priority before Walken gets booted out the door. VP is just the tip of the iceberg-"

"Josh-" Donna's soft voice interrupted, but Josh didn't even glance over, caught up in his monologue as they stood around the bullpen.

"-This isn't prayers-in-school stuff, it's deep cuts to food stamps, partial-birth bans, it's-"

"JOSH."

"What?" he asked, slightly irritated. His gaze followed Donna's to the television. Leo was already gazing at it, traces of shock, horror, and ultimately, recognition, on his face.

"Oh no," he whispered.

It was Zoey Bartlet, and she looked bad. Her eyes were closed, her hair covering her bruised and lacerated face. "Is she even alive?" Donna whispered. "She looks like she's-" She grabbed Josh's hand.

"She's alive," Leo said quietly.

"Who's next to her?"

"That's Lewis Berryhill." Leo stared.

Suddenly the newscaster's voiceover could be heard. Someone had turned up the volume.

"I repeat, this is breaking news – a video of Zoey Bartlet was transmitted digitally to us only minutes ago. It shows the First Daughter holding today's copy of The Washington Post, with what appears to be a circle around an article discussing the assassination of Abdul Shariff. _A warning, once again, this content features graphic violence and may be disturbing to sensitive viewers._ Next to Miss Bartlet appear to be Secretary of State Lewis Berryhill, President Pro Tempore Jerry Rigsby, and Laura Fitzwallace, wife of Admiral Percy Fitzwallace, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs."

"Oh my god," Josh breathed.

"And we have a translation of the kidnappers' speech now," the newscaster said.

Donna flinched, seeing the man onscreen bring a knife to Zoey's cheek, pulling it away a moment later with blood dripping.

"Their message is: 'In retaliation for the brutal slaughter of Muslim innocents, and to show that we do not bow to demonic American imperialism, we have abducted additional prisoners. In six hours, we kill one of them. In another six, it will be a second victim. Six after that, a third. In 24 hours, we will murder the President's daughter." The newscaster paused. "We have named our demands. The release of the Pakistani prisoners, and the immediate removal of American troops from Qumar. You have 24 hours, or she dies."

x-x-x-x-x-x

Title: SIX HOURS BEFORE FIRST SCHEDULED ASSASSINATION

Walken and Leo seated themselves in the Situation Room, Leo taking careful note of the hardened look on Fitzwallace's face.

"What do we know?" Walken asked.

"The FBI is trying to trace the source of the email sent to the news outlet. It looks like they bounced it off several different proxies, but we're confident we can find something." Agent Casper reported.

"The Secret Service is investigating the disappearances of the new victims. We have eye-witness reports that saw suspicious activity on Potomac two hours ago, we think that's where at least Berryhill was taken, possibly the others as well." Nancy spoke up. "It's possible Laura was targeted specifically in retaliation, and the others were merely nearby, given the kidnapper's history with an over-reliance on chance, but we're not ruling anything out."

"Fine. What do we target?"

"Sir?" Nancy asked.

Walken glared at them. "We're working on a rescue. Now I want to know what we're doing in retaliation. Our message wasn't strong enough. I'm going to show the terrorists I wasn't bluffing. We don't negotiate." He looked at Fitzwallace. "Do you need to excuse yourself?"

Fitzwallace gazed at him.

COMMERCIAL

Abigail Bartlet sat with her granddaughter on the couch in the residence, trying not to stare at the TV screen. The girl was almost sixteen, but she didn't have her mother's height; like her grandparents, she was small, and she looked younger than her age as she curled up next to the First Lady, hiding her face in her grandmother's shoulder.

"Grandma," she said quietly.

"Yeah, baby," Abbey replied softly.

"Do you remember...do you remember a few years ago, when they posted that interview I gave, where I spoke up in support of abortion? And I got that doll with the knife in it?"

"Of course, sweetie," Abbey frowned, remembering.

"I've said other stuff too. Dad's told me to keep my mouth shut, but...stuff gets out. Rumors get started, in the press. It gets out."

"Why do you bring it up, Annie?" Abbey turned so she could look at the girl, concerned.

"Because some of the stuff I've said could piss Muslim fundamentalists off," she said quietly.

"Oh, sweetie, no," Abbey replied, pulling her in close again. "This is no one's fault," she said firmly. "You hear me? It's nobody's fault, and nothing is going to happen to anyone else. You're safe, and Aunt Zoey is going to turn up safe too. You got that sweetheart? You wait. They're going to find her, and Grandpa is going to make sure there is hell to pay."

"I'm sorry, Grandma," Annie murmured, hot tears on her face. "I'm just really sorry."

x-x-x-x-x-x

Leo whipped through the halls, making his way back towards his office. "Margaret, I want everyone back here, now," he demanded, slamming the door behind him. "NOW!" He shouted.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Title: Five and a Half Hours Before First Scheduled Assassination

x-x-x-x-x-x

"This is garbage," Toby spat out, staring at the paper in front of him.

"No, don't hold back, I want us to have the kind of relationship where we can be honest with each other," Will replied.

"Garbage!" he exclaimed. "'It's _weak_, it's _depressing_."

"It's not depressing," Will argued. "It's touchi-"

"Excuse me, I know depressing when I see it," Toby snapped, crumbling the paper in his hand and bouncing it off the wall. "And I notice you didn't disagree that it's weak."

"Well, I was getting there," Will rolled his eyes.

"We need a strong, bold return to Commander-in-Chief, not a relieved father," Toby retorted.

"Isn't it possible we can write a speech that's both?"

"_No_." Toby gave him a look that dripped with condescension.

"What about 'I stand before you, with renewed conviction, to strengthen our security and preserve our freedom. To ensure the safety of _all _our children, and fight for them to live in a world where the American values of liberty and family are protected and celebrated, and any threats are silenced...'"

"Will, Toby," Ginger interrupted, standing in the doorway. "Leo wants you both in his office right away."

x-x-x-x-x-x

C.J. sat at her desk, rifling through reports in preparation for what she suspected would be yet another devastating press conference, when she heard the door to her office open. She looked up, expecting to see Carol, and was caught off-guard when she saw Danny instead.

"Danny, I really can't right now," she threatened. "I'm not kidding."

"I know, C.J., I'm just..." he sat on the couch, rubbing his face. "Give me a minute, okay?"

She bit her lip, hesitating. Finally she spoke. "Danny, if someone from Walken's camp finds out you were in here-"

"C.J., give it a rest. In 24 hours Walken isn't going to be President anymore."

C.J. was silent, her head in her hands.

"I'm not here as a reporter," he said quietly.

"Excuse me?" her head shot up. "No. We are emphatically not talking about...that."

"Well, if it's '_emphatically_'," he sighed.

"Do I look like I'm in the mood for you to be a smartass?"

"No. I'm sorry. C.J., I'm not here about that either. Not exactly."

"Then what do I owe the pleasure, Danny?" She asked sarcastically. "Sorry to be brusque, but, you know, in case you hadn't heard, my boss's daughter and god knows who else have been _kidnapped_."

He shook his head, sighing, looking up at her through bloodshot eyes. "I thought you might need to talk."

"Excuse me?" she gaped at him, snorting. "You thought I might need to _talk_?"

Danny stared at the floor, before meeting her gaze. A moment passed.

"Did it bother you, how I acted after Rosslyn?"

"Of course it did, you were a pain in my ass then, and you're a pain in my ass now-"

"C.J."

C.J. halted, trying to read his expression. "What?" she asked, clearly shaken. "God, where did that come from?"

"Did it?"

She stared at him. "A little," she said finally. "But afterwards, I was relieved. I thought about it, and I was relieved."

He nodded. "I did it because I thought it was what you needed. What we both needed, really. But C.J., you know me, you know the Sharif story was different. I was persistent because I had to be, because no one else was and the people deserved to know."

"Danny, do you really need to tell me this?" She stared at him, the unspoken reminder of what she'd done hanging over them.

"I just thought...maybe it was an excuse," he said. "Maybe it was selfish. Rosslyn. I told myself that you didn't need a lover, you needed to keep it together. But maybe it was selfish. I knew, that if I let myself think about it, if I _really _focused on what had happened...I was terrified, and I couldn't afford to be terrified. You had enough on your plate, I couldn't let myself allow the confusion of...feelings...add to what you were going through. I couldn't. And I couldn't let myself take advantage of it."

"Danny," she said quietly. "I don't know what you want me to-"

He shook his head. "I know you're scared. I know you're stressed. But if I sit here with you, if I can offer you the smallest semblance of comfort to you while we wait...C.J. you know me, you know I'm not looking for a story. I just want to sit with you." His voice had a rasp of desperation to it that always made her throat catch, whether she wanted it to or not.

"Danny," she said carefully. "Do _you _need to talk?"

He watched her, his face unreadable. "No," he said finally. "I don't need to talk."

C.J. looked at him. "Danny, if anything happens to any of them...it's not your fault."

He blinked, his gaze settling on Gail. "I'm sorry C.J., I know you're busy. I just wanted to offer support if you needed it. As friends. We should both get back to work." He exited before she could gather her voice.

C.J. closed her eyes, trying not to think about what had just happened.

A moment later she heard someone clear their throat, and opened her eyes, startled. "C.J.?" Carol asked tentatively, examining her from the doorway. "Leo wants to see you right away."

x-x-x-x-x-x

She met Will and Toby in the hall, entering Leo's office together. Josh was already there, pacing silently, his hands in his pockets.

"What's going on?" C.J. asked, staring around.

"We need to pick a Vice-President. Now. We're going to sit here, and come up with a shortlist, and by the end of this meeting we will have someone." Leo's voice was gravelly.

C.J. sat down, staring at him. "Leo?" He turned to look at her. "What's going on?" she repeated, her voice softer.

"I can't discuss it," he said firmly. "But Walken is more determined than ever to appoint a Vice-President, what with the Senate Pro Tempore in life-threatening danger - since _as we all know_," he rolled his eyes. "He's _next in the line of succession_." He shook his head, and Will ducked his eyes. "Come on. Let's get started."

Josh turned from the window, surveying them.

"We don't need to discuss it. I know who we're picking."

Leo raised his eyebrows. "Care to share with the class?" he asked dryly.

Josh gazed at them. "Ismael Sabir."

"_What?!"_ Leo demanded, exasperated. The room stirred.

"The Senator from Illinois?" Will clarified, disbelieving.

"Congress will _never_ confirm him," Leo said, staring at Josh as if he were crazy.

"I know," Josh said calmly.

"You _know_?" Leo repeated. Then it hit him, and he rolled his eyes, rubbing his face. "Good God."

"What am I missing here?" Will asked, as C.J. started lazily swinging one of her long legs back and forth in her chair, not looking at anyone. Toby threw himself down in the chair next to her.

"Walken's going to appoint someone whether we go to him with a name or not," Josh said in a clear voice. "We don't have time to vet everyone, or come up with a serious list. We need to name the most progressive, out-there VP possible. He'll never get confirmed, and it'll tie up Congress's time, so they can't try and push through Conservative legislation and take advantage of the situation. Walken will go through with it because he knows it's a no-go. It'll make him look bipartisan and generous, perhaps the ONLY time he'll ever be referred to as 'bipartisan' in his entire career, whilst really making the Democrats look even weaker when he doesn't get confirmed."

Leo shook his head. "He's right."

"What if he gets confirmed though?" Will asked.

"He won't," Toby replied, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, I got a dead guy elected," Will reminded him.

"The man has a funny-sounding Muslim name, and we're currently under attack by fundamentalists!" Toby shouted. "We're going to get laughed out of office! Forget winning back the House during the midterms, we're going to lose the Senate too! How is that an advantage?" Toby snapped.

"We keep Congress from pushing legislation until Zoey Bartlet is found, and we avoid getting a Republican named Vice President. It's not a win." Josh looked around. "It's a compromise."

x-x-x-x-x-x

Fade in from black

Her first groggy thought upon waking up was a vague embarrassment at noticing she needed to reapply fresh deodorant. A moment later she sludged her way further towards consciousness, trying to remember where she was.

Then it hit her. She was locked in a closet, one room over from the bigger walk-in closet housing her fellow prisoners. Her brain was full of fuzzy images, her thoughts muddled from an unknown drug.

Her face was raw and stinging, and she thought back to the days of skinned knees and scraped elbows, her mother patiently sitting crouched in front of her, applying a clean cloth and soothing gel to kill infection, the sensation of pressure as the woman gently pressed the band-aid against her skin. She explained every step of the way, what she was doing and why, even when Zoey had suffered enough skinned knees to keep the band-aid company in business for a year. Afterward, her mother swept her up into her arms, congratulating her on being a brave girl, promising her an extra scoop of ice cream with dinner.

The image faded from her mind as the smell of blood and decay drifted back over her senses. She'd never felt pain like this.

"Daddy," she whispered.

She heard a rustle outside the closet door and cringed, mustering the rest of her energy to scoot a few more inches back against the wall.

The door opened, and a string of words she couldn't understand escaped the man bending over her. He sounded angry. They always sounded angry.

She spotted the bat a moment later, and winced, subconsciously preparing herself. She heard the screams escape her as he whipped it at her, sounding just as foreign to her as the unknown language. She tasted blood, mixing with the salt of her tears, and then everything went black.

END CREDITS


	3. America's Daughter

**Title:** Chapter 3 - America's Daughter

**Author:** AmandasArmada

**Disclaimer:** _This chapter contains certain lines and scene outlines which are borrowed from the show – all credit goes to the original writers in such instances._

**Author's Note:** Ismael Sabir played by Harry Lennix.

**Rating:** T for violence

**Companion Episode:** "The Dogs of War"

TEASER

x-x-x-x-x-x

Title: Five Hours Before First Scheduled Assassination

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Boys, I think you know why you're here," President Walken said slowly, looking around the Oval Office at the Senior Staff.

"Yes, sir," Josh spoke up, exchanging a glance with Leo.

"Do you have a list for me?" he asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Leo replied, handing him the slip of paper.

"One name?" Walken asked, before reading the slip.

"Just the one," Leo answered, nodding his head.

Walken looked down at the paper in his hand. "Yer shittin' me."

C.J. and Toby stubbornly avoided one another's gaze, Toby closing his eyes in reticence.

"Well, it's your funeral," Walken drawled, dropping the paper on the desk.

The paper read:

_Vice-Presidential Nominee_

_Ismael Darwish Sabir_

OPENING CREDITS

Flashback:

October 1998

He'd managed to find the only quiet room in the building, slipping away as his staff tried to placate Josh and Toby, who were currently in the midst of a blazing argument about something Jed had been trying wholeheartedly to ignore.

"Zoey, I'm sorry. I'm not going to be able to make it," Jed said gently, his expression forcibly neutral as he spoke into the phone. "There's an important speech that just got moved forward. Toby thinks it could break the election if I have to cancel. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

He held his breath, waiting for the tears. They didn't come. His brow furrowed.

"It's okay, Dad. I understand." Her voice was quiet.

"I'm going to make it up to you Zoey, I promise. I'm going to think of something incredible."

"More incredible than being elected President?" She joked. "Seriously. It's fine, Dad. It's Homecoming, not my wedding."

"I swear to God, come hell or high water, I'll be there for it next year. You know you're going to get nominated again, right?" Jed urged her. "A bright, beautiful girl like you? You're a shoo-in. You're going to get it again as a senior, sweetheart, and your dad's going to be there to escort you in that parade. We'll snag a secret service car, do it in style – or hell, borrow C.J.'s mustang. You know you love that car. I'm serious, Zoey, it doesn't matter - whether I'm President or I'm not, I'll be there next year."

"I know, Dad." Her voice was calm. "It's okay. I'll get Doug to do it, he can drive down in his BMW. Don't worry about it. I _understand_." He could hear his daughter's smile even through the phoneline. "Good luck on your speech," she said sweetly.

Jed was quiet. "You know I'm proud of you, right? And you're gonna win, sweetheart, I can feel it."

"So are you, Dad." He thought he heard her sigh. "You have to go, I know."

"I'll call you again tonight, all right? Give your mother a kiss for me."

"Sure Dad. Talk to you later. Love you." A thousand miles away, the girl wiped a single tear from her eye, before her face settled into brave nonchalance.

"I love you too, Zoey."

The Present

Bartlet sat on the couch in the residence, staring out into the distance. Abbey came in from behind, her face fiercely protected. He looked at her. She was staring at him, the anger and betrayal still in her eyes, a cover for the fear threatening to break loose. He nodded at her, accepting her condemnation. She watched him for a moment. He wished she wouldn't.

"Jed."

"Yes, darling," he replied, sighing - waiting for it. "What is it?"

"You know damn well 'what.' What's wrong with you?"

He was quiet, thinking about lying. He didn't see what the point would be. She'd know anyway, and she'd only get angrier with him.

"I can't move my arm," he said quietly, after a moment of silence. "For about ten minutes now. I can't move it."

She came to sit down next to him, staring in fright. "It's the MS," she said softly. He nodded. She put her hand to his arm, rubbing it gently, as another pregnant moment hung over them. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Do you think I should resign, Abbey?" he whispered. "Permanently, I mean, not just this-."

Abbey gazed at him, tears in her eyes. "They elected you - even after they knew about the MS. This is temporary." A stray tear fell. "They elected you, Jed."

x-x-x-x-x-x

Title: Four and a Half Hours Before First Scheduled Assassination

x-x-x-x-x-x

"'..._And with this, we see again that the prayers of Americans do not fall on deaf ears, for through the hopes of its people and the Grace of God -'_" Will pontificated, his voice ringing out even as he bowed his head in exhaustion.

"We want punch, not poetry," Toby muttered to himself, puffing the air from his cigar. He needed to stop smoking, he thought to himself. It was a bad example, and it would go a long way towards showing Andy he wasn't the bitter, pessimistic man she thought she knew. Or at least, he didn't have to be.

He sighed, letting loose another puff of smoke. He needed to stop, but it wasn't going to happen today.

"I still think you're making a mistake," Will said. "The people aren't going to forget his humanity, and we don't want them to."

"We want _punch_," Toby enunciated loudly, waving the cigar in his hand.

Will bounced the ball against the wall, leaning back in his chair. "Punch," he said thoughtfully.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Across the country, Sam Seaborne sat in his new office - his eyes were locked on the television screen, yet it was muted, and from his expression he was clearly lost in thought. The beep of his computer startled him back to reality, and the familiar email address filled his heart with dread. He clicked it open, seeing the message. His eyes drifted over the words, his hands reaching for a pencil.

"Sam -

Your message was very kind. I've always thought, morbid as it is, that situations of despair bring out the best of your talent. This was no different. Things here are exactly what you'd imagine.

Will and I are at a standoff. Two speeches need to be written, and we can't even agree on the easy one. You were right about him. He's doing well, but I don't know if I can write this with him. I need to go it alone. He's not ready for this one yet. Or maybe I'm not, it's not really clear to me.

At any rate – this is difficult to ask, and I know you're busy, but any thoughts you might have on the second speech would be incredibly appreciated.

Sincerely,

-T

P.S. Andy had the babies. Will send pictures when all of this is over."

x-x-x-x-x-x

Back at the White House, C.J. stood before the press room, gazing out at the mass of reporters in front of her. "We have updates on the attack in Qumar. Intelligence tells us there have been approximately four thousand fatalities and another eight thousand injured, approximately a quarter of those civilians. Additional damage is being reported out of the area, including the destruction of a nearby food distribution center, which housed a major supply of the nation's produce."

"C.J., what information can you give us on the FBI's plans in response to the additional kidnapping victims?" Chris called out.

"The FBI, Secret Service, and NSA are all continuing to investigate the disappearances, the details of which we cannot disclose at this time," C.J. replied immediately.

"You can't give us anything at all?" Chris urged.

"Not without compromising the investigation," C.J. said pointedly.

"C.J., what about reports coming out that President Walken asked Chairman Fitzwallace to recuse himself?"

"Admiral Fitzwallace remains a key military adviser to the President, and has served his duties faithfully," C.J. said vaguely.

"C.J.-"

"That's all I have for you, I'll keep you updated with any new information on the hour," C.J. promised.

She stepped out of the briefing room, walking quickly into the bullpen, hoping to shake off any reporters who might be trying to follow her. "What's going on?" she demanded.

She stared around the room, seeing their white faces. "Donna?" she asked, more gently this time, but with an edge underlying her voice.

"Another video was released," Donna whispered. Her tear-stained face was glued to the screen, Josh standing behind her, his arm around her shoulder. C.J. turned to stare at the screen, her heart falling into her stomach.

On the screen, a man was laughing maniacally, bent over the unconscious body of Lewis Berryhill. "What's he saying?" Josh murmured.

It was the newscaster who answered. "He's bleeding." The man on the screen continued to laugh, as he repeated the phrase over and over again, with the voiceover translating. "He's bleeding."

COMMERCIAL

"WHERE ARE WE?" Walken roared around the room, his face ashen.

"We're working in conjunction with Saudi Arabia, and have interrogated over fifty members of the mosque the terrorists attended. Believe me, our people aren't the only ones who are bleeding," Nancy replied fiercely.

"I want to send a message," Walken said, screwing his face into an ugly grimace. "A message that we do not negotiate with terrorists, and that if they go through with their plans, then God help me, I will bring the full force and fury of the United States military on them and their homelands."

"Well, in that case, I'll just have C.J. pencil that into her next press release," Leo spat out. Walken turned to throw him a deadly glare, before turning to Fitzwallace, his voice rippling through the tense air.

"What do you suggest?"

Fitz gazed at him steadily, then exchanged a glance with Nancy. "We're prepared to bomb another four targets throughout Qumar - we've got twenty-five planes stationed, ready to move into position on your order." His face was oddly blank. "We agree that we need a clear display of our strength and resolve. Caving to their demands at this point would be catastrophic."

"_However,_" Nancy added, shooting a concerned look at Fitzwallace. "We're also making serious strides in our investigations. The FBI is tracing the origin of the email attachments sent to the news stations, and combining it with the rest of the intelligence gathered. If we rescue the prisoners, additional military force is excessive brutality on a country still technically regarded as our ally."

"I want them moved into position," Walken told Fitzwallace firmly. He turned to Nancy. "Find them, goddamn it. I don't want to have to have this discussion again."

x-x-x-x-x-x

Title: Two and a Half Hours Before First Scheduled Assassination

x-x-x-x-x-x

Leo passed through the halls towards his office, looking as if he'd aged five years in the past five hours.

"Leo," Toby said, coming into step with him.

"How are the speeches coming?" Leo asked, rubbing one of his eyes.

"You slept in the past forty-eight hours?" Toby replied.

"I got a three hour nap in," Leo said brusquely. "How are the speeches coming?" he repeated.

"I'm working on them," Toby said evasively.

"Both of them?" Leo asked knowingly.

"How's the President?" Toby asked, eager to change the subject.

"Pretty pissed," Leo replied, shaking his head. _And panicking_, he added to himself.

"No, President Bartlet," Toby amended.

Leo stopped for a moment. "Not well," he said finally.

Toby met his eyes. "He knows, if there's anything we can do..."

"He knows," Leo said firmly.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Josh, you've had a hundred and eighty-seven calls," Donna said breathlessly, spinning around in her chair as he stepped into her cubicle. "Everyone from the Democratic leadership has called, many of them whom did not go through their secretaries, but rather yelled directly in my ear. Most of them are about the nomination, although I've gotten a fair amount of screaming about a rumor going around that the Republicans are going to try to start legislating."

"Always up on the times, those guys," Josh cracked, rubbing his face. "All right. We'll start working on a release to send out, I need to meet with Toby and C.J. as soon as possib-" he broke off. "C.J.? What's going on?" Josh asked, spotting the woman racing away from her office.

"Ismael Sabir's giving a Press Conference," C.J. muttered, grabbing Josh by the arm as she rushed down the hall.

"What? When?!" he asked shrilly.

"_Now._ I'm on my way over there."

"Has anyone read his statement?"

"It's not so much a statement as a _speech_. And no, I haven't!" C.J. snapped.

Josh hurried after her, as she reached the briefing room.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"...And so, the second terrorist attack that took place this morning reminded us of an important fact: It was not only 'the daughter of Josiah and Abigail Bartlet' that was taken from us two days ago. It was America's daughter." The man looked out over his crowd, his strong voice carrying clearly amongst the throng. "This wasn't just an attack on the President of the United States - Jed Bartlet, the man - for any such attack is inherently an attack on all of us, and an attack on his child is an attack on all of our children." He paused. "Never before has our leader seemed so human, and yet neither has he ever seemed so brave, nor so wise. We stand by him today as his constituents and as fellow Americans, devoted to seeing justice served, and prepared to welcome back our President with the open arms of love and family. We have faith, faith in the Lord above, and in our officers here on Earth, that Zoey Bartlet and the other hostages will be rescued and brought home safely. We have faith that our nation is secure, and that in the face of tragedy only grows stronger - and that while there will always be evil in the world, there will also be those that overcome it." His face shone fiercely out over the crowd, his eyes glistening. "I am _honored_ to be nominated as Vice President of this great nation, and I hope to help lead it – and in doing so I invite you, the people, to join me, as we stand loyally behind our leader. Together we will wield our mighty government, we will remind America's enemies that our fierceness is not in jeopardy, and when one of us is compromised, our strength perseveres. When our enemies dare to attack our children, and attempt to divide us and sow fear, our nation perseveres. Through this crisis and forever more, we will show again and again our community as it stands together to support and heal, only growing stronger out of our suffering. My heart goes out to the families of all the victims, and let us continue to stand together to bring them safely home. Thank you. May God bless you, and may God bless America."

COMMERCIAL

"What the hell was that?!" Jeff Haffley snapped, storming into Josh's office.

"Josh, Congressman Haffley is here to see you," Donna peeped her head in behind him, giving him an apologetic look.

"Please, sit down, Congressman," Josh invited, taking a swig of the bottle of water sitting on his desk.

"I'll stand, thanks," Haffley said snidely. He glared at Josh. "Might I remind you that you are not the majority in this country?"

"That's funny. We were the majority when we got Josiah Bartlet elected President," Josh replied.

"Maybe the second time," Haffley sneered. "Listen here, Josh-"

"No, you listen, _Jeff," _Josh retorted, stepping around his desk to face him eye-to-eye._ "_You might be the lapdog of the biggest kid on the playground right now, but don't you forget for a _minute_ that there's a letter, waiting in a drawer right now, and it's got your name on it. You better be careful how many toes you stop on before that letter gets sent out, because it's not going to be pretty. I might not have thought Sabir had a snowflake's chance in hell when I gave his name to Walken, but I swear to _God,_ he's going to be sitting in John Hoyne's office by the time I'm done here - so you better wipe that smug look off your face, because one of us is going to look like an idiot at the end of this, and it's not going to be me."

"Yeah, well, good luck with that," Haffley smirked at him. "I don't think you need to worry too much though. We've picked out our own nominee, which will go over a lot better the second time around, right about the time when you're busy looking like an idiot."

"Who?" Josh demanded.

"Bob Russell," Haffley smiled gloatingly, causing Josh to shut his eyes in consternation.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Title: One and a Half Hours Before First Scheduled Assassination

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Bingo Bob?!" C.J. yelled, pacing through Josh's office.

"That's what he said," Josh replied stiffly. "Can you believe the nerve of them?"

"Does he seriously think he can force us into nominating Russell?"

"It certainly seems so," Josh said, perching on his desk.

"There's no way – no _way_ – it's going to happen," Toby breathed, before C.J. could spit out a retort. "After that show in there...if Sabir doesn't get confirmed, there's no chance Congress isn't going to approve whomever we put up next. It'd be downright unpatriotic. The people would go nuts."

"It was a stroke of genius," Josh murmured. "Anyone know anything about it? How it got _started_?"

"I think the real question is, what are we going to do about Haffley?" Will said hastily.

"What's there to do?" C.J. asked. "We're going to fight back."

"Easier said than done," Will said, but C.J., Josh, and Toby merely exchanged looks, the fire building in each of them.

"We're going to _crush him_," Josh clarified.

"Bring it on," C.J. said vehemently, smiling for the first time in days.

x-x-x-x-x-x

In the Oval Office, Glen Allen Walken sat alone, peering over maps of the Middle East, a bead of sweat on his forehead - his mind, for the moment at least, light years away from any of the internal politics around him. He glanced up, his eyes falling on the picture of Zoey Bartlet still framed on the corner of the desk, her bright smile shining through the portrait. He closed his eyes, jumping at the knock at the door.

"Come in," he called. Debbie Fiderer opened the door. "Sir," she said pointedly. "You have another meeting with the Qumari Ambassador in five minutes, Leo McGarry will be joining you. I've also got Agent Casper out here, he'd like a word if you're available."

"Send him in," Walken mumbled, closing the briefing folder in front of him, his eyes distraught.

She stepped aside, nodding the man in, his face expressionless as he took a seat across from the President.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Title: Forty-five Minutes Before The First Scheduled Assassination

x-x-x-x-x-x

Jed Bartlet stood in the doorway, spotting the familiar silhouette hunched over, facing away from the desk, a pen lying abandoned in his lap as he snapped a rubber band from a ball of them.

"Toby."

The man snapped the rubber ball tightly, causing it to snap back on him painfully as he turned in his chair, startled.

"I'm sorry," Bartlet said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Not at all, Mr. President," Toby replied, standing. "Is there anything I can do for you?" His voice softened. "Anything at all?"

"I was just wondering if you had a cigarette." He smiled. "I hide them, Abbey finds them, Abbey throws them away..."

"You're welcome to a cigar," Toby gestured, reaching for the box in his desk.

"Nah, no thanks. I'll find someone on the staff." He looked at the pad of paper that had fallen when Toby stood so abruptly. "That it?"

"Sir?"

"Is that the speech?"

Toby looked at him.

"It's the speech."

The President nodded. "I saw Sabir's. Hell of a wordsmith."

"Yes, Sir," Toby said hoarsely.

"Will write it?"

Toby paused. "I think so, Sir."

"We should give him a raise."

Toby nodded. "From your mouth to Congress's ears," he joked.

The President nodded to the notepad. "Can I read it?"

Toby hesitated. "It's not finished."

The President gazed at him. "Is it the bad one?"

Toby looked at him. "No, Sir," he picked it up, handing it to him. "It's not the bad one."

"Where's that one?" Jed asked, his eyes starting to trickle over the words on the page, before stopping, blinking.

"Sam's writing it," Toby said softly, putting his hands in his pockets. Bartlet nodded, giving his attention back to the paper in his hand.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Sir!" Leo turned abruptly, gazing down the hall towards the ringing voice. He spotted Ron Butterfield jogging towards him, his face exuberant.

"Ron-"

He knew it was coming before the words came, but they filled him with desperate, unbridled relief when they finally reached his ears.

"We found them, Leo." Ron smiled tightly, his joy scarcely contained. "We've got 'em."

x-x-x-x-x-x

The Bartlets, Fitzwallace, and the family of the other victims joined a crowd of press and security, the sounds of sirens drowning out their thoughts and tears. As Jed and Abigail raced across a field, the hunched figure of Zoey Bartlet appeared, her face blank and devoid of tears as her parents reached her. She was drowned in their embrace, her mother touching her face, examining her injuries, hot tears rushing down her cheeks. Behind her stood her other two daughters, eager but somehow frozen, watching, letting their parents bring their youngest sister back into the world that had shattered almost three days before.

Zoey blinked. "Mom?" She looked at her parents. "Mommy?"

"I'm here, baby girl," Abbey said, kissing her forehead.

"_Daddy!_" Zoey whispered.

"I'm here, sweetheart."

Zoey collapsed into her father's arms, and unnoticed by any of them, the cameras clicked away. It was the image that flooded the country that evening – Zoey Bartlet, beaten and bruised, dried blood on her face, in the strong protective arms of her father, with the headline below, two words that echoed on every news station – _America's Daughter._

COMMERCIAL

The room had a stately silence as Jed Bartlet entered, seeing his senior staff assembled in a line, waiting for him to take his place ahead of them. President Walken stood in the center of the room, looking older than he had only days ago.

"You ready, Sir?" Leo asked, the paper in his hand. Jed nodded. "Are _you_ ready?" Bartlet addressed Walken.

Walken gave a silent nod, seeming smaller somehow as Jed stepped closer. Leo handed him the paper, and Jed Bartlet signed – and with that, it was done.

"You want to stick around for the press conference?" Bartlet asked, but Walken shook his head. "I think I've seen enough of this room for awhile," he replied dryly. Bartlet nodded, smiling. Walken nodded to the rest of the staff, striding steadily towards the door.

"Glen?"

The man turned at the President's voice, staring across the room.

"Thank you."

Walken nodded, a small smile on his face, before closing the door behind him.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"As many of you already know, approximately one hour ago the FBI and Secret Service led a successful rescue of Zoey Patricia Bartlet, Secretary Lewis James Berryhill, Senator Gerald Anthony Rigsby, and Laura Gail Fitzwallace, following information gathered from analysis of released videos sent by the kidnappers." C.J. addressed the crowd. "Those responsible were identified as Kazir terrorists, originating from Saudi Arabia and Qumar. They met U.S. agents with deadly force, and all three were killed in the raid on the house. There were no American fatalities as a result of the gunfight, although two federal agents sustained injuries, neither critical, and they are both expected to make full recoveries. The victims of the kidnappings are currently under medical care, although no permanent injuries have been reported. Zoey Bartlet has a broken clavicle and several fractured ribs, as well as various bruises and lacerations. We expect to have more information in the coming hours and days." C.J. looked across the stage. "And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States."

Bartlet stepped up to the podium, gazing out at the captivated faces before him.

"'The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away,'" he began. "Words I didn't fully understand, until our daughter was taken from us three days ago. Today, our hearts beat as one, as we reflect upon such simple truths as the preciousness of our children, and the need to stand together in adversity - for we are stronger together, and it is the bonds we share that give such poignancy to our lives. We face the world today stronger than we were before, with renewed conviction to defending the values which define us – family, freedom, unity, and perseverance." President Bartlet paused. "I wish I could tell you that there was a new system, unbreachible, guaranteed to protect us, in the wake of such horrors. Unfortunately, the world doesn't work that way. Security and defense are like fighting a many-headed monster, in which every time a head is cut off, another two takes its place. I tell you this not to frighten you, nor to discourage you, but to prepare you, for it is a formidable challenge we must continue to face. We must accept this knowledge rather than run from it, for only then can we meet it with the innovation and dedication which defines our people. With these tools, and more, I promise to fight with every fiber of my being, every weapon in our armory, and every ounce of God's grace, to keep us strong, and free, and safe..."


	4. Jefferson Lives

**Episode 4 - Jefferson Lives**

Companion Episode: "Jefferson Lives"

Disclaimer: Some scenes and storylines have been borrowed from the official canon. These should not be taken to be my creation, but are the intellectual property of their original creators.

Author: AmandasArmada

Author's Note: Ismael Sabir played by Harry Lennix.

TEASER

In the residence, Jed Bartlet laid in bed, tossing and turning, his face contorted in concern. He woke with a start, sitting straight up. He looked around the empty bedroom, wondering if his wife had ever joined him the night before.

Shaking slightly, he stepped into his robe, padding into the living area. He saw Abbey sitting on the corner of the couch, fast asleep with her head lolling. On her lap was the head of their youngest daughter, her face turned away, her eyes open and staring into space. Her small body was sprawled across the length of the couch, her mother's fingers intertwined in her hair.

"Hey sweetheart," he said gently, not wanting to startle her. She turned her head slightly, flashing him a wide smile. "Morning, Daddy. Happy Fourth."

He returned her smile, although his was more reserved. "Morning. You ready for today?"

"Of course," she replied immediately, sitting up and looking at him expectantly. He sighed, sitting in the spot she'd cleared, his hand grasping hers on her lap as she smiled at him.

OPENING CREDITS

Josh was seated behind his desk, yelling into the phone at a Democratic senator, his hands running through his hair in frustration.

"No, you see, I'm going to keep saying 'no', and I don't appreciate your need to coddle the Republican party! _Why?_ Because _I_ believe in maintaining a party that doesn't allow our political enemies to take advantage of a national crisis to try and enforce their agenda upon us - so NO, I guess I don't _'believe in compromise!'_" He argued loudly, not noticing the door to his office opening.

"Josh?" Donna said cautiously.

He looked up, gaping at her. He'd barely spoken to his assistant over the past few days, ever since the news of Zoey Bartlet's rescue had been announced to them.

"What's up?" he asked lamely, hanging up on the senator.

"There's an article in the Post – a resignation letter from Jeremiah Birardi. It's about Shareef, and it's pretty scathing."

He sighed, standing. "Get me a copy, and call Margaret, I have to speak with Leo."

o-o-o-o-o

Leo stepped through the halls, Josh hot on his heels. "I just saw about Birardi," Josh said breathlessly, catching up. Leo nodded. "He's a laconic fellow, isn't he?" Leo asked dryly.

"We're going to need to meet with C.J. before her first briefing," Josh pointed out. Leo frowned. "That'll go well."

"She's adjusting," Josh defended her. "We all need some time," he added pointedly.

Leo paused, then nodded. "Fine. I want you in C.J.'s office in ten minutes, then we've got a meeting about Sabir. Let's go."

o-o-o-o-o

C.J. sat behind her desk, peering over the resignation later that had been printed in that morning's Post. Her face was screwed up in concentration and uncertainty, the fingers of one hand tapping on the desk.

She registered the knock at her door, calling the guest in distractedly. She looked up a second later, surprised to see Danny Concannon standing in the doorway.

"Haven't seen you around lately," she said, with a forced casualness.

"Got called away," Danny said easily, giving her a small smile. He closed the door behind him. "How's Zoey doing?"

"She's a trooper, to say the least," C.J. replied, folding the paper in front of her. "But there's a briefing in an hour, you can hear about the rest of it with everybody else." She shot him a pointed glance, then opened a briefing folder.

Danny stood in front of the door, gazing at her. "C.J., I wanted to apologize."

She glanced up at him. "For what?"

He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "I put you in an awkward position."

"I wouldn't worry about it," C.J. said, dismissing him.

"Not just with the story. Afterward. I kind of lost it. I'm not proud of it-"

"Danny," C.J. said firmly. "You have nothing to apologize for." She shook her head. "We're good, okay? I don't want you agonizing over this. But I have to prepare for this briefing, so unless there's something else..."

He nodded. "Sure." He gave her a weak smile. "I'll see you then, I guess."

She returned the smile, their eyes meeting. "An hour, Danny."

o-o-o-o-o

Abbey Bartlet stood at the counter in the residence, trying to keep her hand from shaking as she gazed out the window over her mug of coffee.

"It wasn't his fault, you know."

She turned, spotting her youngest daughter watching her. "Zoey?"

Zoey gazed at her. "I'm not okay. I can't talk about it, but – no, I'm not okay Mom. I know you know it, and I know you hate him for it. Please don't do that. It's not his fault."

The First Lady was at a loss for words. "Oh, sweetheart. It's complicated."

"It's always complicated. But it's the job. Sometimes Daddy makes decisions, and people die. I can't pretend to understand it, but we all accepted it. If it wasn't me, if Dad wasn't President, it would have been someone else's daughter. Someone else's little girl."

Tears welled in Abbey's eyes, and she put down the mug, reaching for her daughter. "You're so strong," she whispered in her ear. "I'm so proud of you, but please, remember, you don't have to be quite so strong."

Zoey crumbled, a few tears running down her face as she leaned her weight against her mother.

COMMERCIAL

Senior Staff was seated around Leo's office, each of them with a list in front of them, bags under their eyes.

"We'll need a real nominee, in case Sabir loses – someone that doesn't put up a fight, but isn't a Bingo Bob type either." Josh said.

"What about Berryhill? He was on the shortlist," Toby pointed out. C.J. winced. "What?" he continued. "Strong military and foreign policy experience, he's liberal without being radical – it's a win-win."

"He's not too eager to be a public face right now," she relayed. "He hasn't explicitly turned us down, but he's not the enthusiastic face we need, and frankly, I'm not crazy about the image. We can talk about how we're a stronger nation all we want, but seeing a man who's been beaten on top of a President who stepped down..." she looked uncomfortable. Toby nodded, getting it.

"We need a shoo-in," Toby said after a moment. "We're all tired, we don't need a fight right now, particularly not one we're not sure we can win. We need strong leadership, decisive unity."

"Are we really so eager to give up on Sabir?" Will interjected. Toby gave him a wry look.

"Listen, I want to wipe the smug look off Haffley's face more than anyone," Josh answered. "But we have to be practical. This is politics."

"I'm just saying, doesn't he deserve a fair shot?" Will shot back indignantly.

"No one said we won't try," Josh replied. Will raised his eyebrows. "Okay, I guess Toby did," he allowed, shooting the man a look. "We're just saying, we need to be prepared. Walken put us in a pretty crappy position, and we need to look forward, get ready to snap back."

"We should do some polling," C.J. cut in. "We need to see what the people are thinking, and then we need to leak it to the press. Sabir, Russell, Berryhill – all of them. We need to be discreet, then we need to use the information to strike fear in the Republicans. It's the only chance we've got."

Josh bit his lip, looking around. "Okay. I know what to do."

o-o-o-o-o

For a moment Leo just stood and watched his old friend, a lone figure visible through the glass windows. The President stood in profile, his back slightly turned as he bent over a folder in his hand, frowning in concentration. Leo watched as a wisp of smoke wafted up around the man, Jed giving a light cough.

"How's Zoey?" Leo asked, stepping out onto the terrace outside the Oval Office. Jed turned, taking in his appearance.

"Fit as a fiddle, that girl. She's got her mother's fight in her." Jed took a drag on his cigarette, shaking his head.

"Funny, her mother's fight was my next question." Leo surveyed him. " How are things with Abbey?"

"She's still pretty pissed," Jed said comfortably, looking at him over his glasses.

"Well, that's to be expected." Leo gave him a tight smile.

"How are things going with Sabir?"

"You've got a meeting with him later today."

Jed nodded. "And?"

Leo shrugged. "The calls from Democratic leaderships have died down, although Haffley's raising a storm if there ever was one. I'm taking it as a good sign. He wouldn't be pissed if there wasn't a chance we're gonna pull ahead."

Jed nodded. "It'd be something, wouldn't it."

"A black VP?"

"Ah, that too! I meant a liberal VP," Jed joked.

Leo shook his head. "I'm not betting on anything yet. But things are definitely looking better than I would have thought." He looked at his friend. "You know I gotta say Sir, I'm surprised. It's ten AM on the Fourth of July and I still haven't heard Jefferson's name come out of your mouth."

"I'm saving it for this afternoon. I figured it'd be a good way to distract the press when they try to start in on Zoey."

"It's not your worst idea," Leo replied bitterly.

"Yeah." Jed took another drag, sighing.

o-o-o-o-o

"Ginger said you wanted to see me?" Toby asked, stepping into C.J.'s office. She looked up. "Yeah." She waved the paper at him. "You read it?"

"Birardi? Yeah. Laid it on a little thick, don't you think?"

"That wasn't my first thought," C.J. muttered. "I'm already getting questions."

"Tell them to wait until the briefing."

"Gee, I wonder why I didn't think of that," C.J. said sardonically. Toby raised his eyebrows.

"C.J...do you need to talk?"

C.J. halted for a split-second, the words throwing her. Toby gazed at her, his eyes heavy with concern. She looked at him, then gathered herself together. "No, Toby. I'm fine. I just want to go over the statement again. I just want to get back to work."

o-o-o-o-o

Back in the Oval Office, Jed sat on one of the sofas, the picture of Zoey from his desk in his hands. He gazed at it absently as Leo briefed him on a retreat they'd set up to Camp David for the coming days. It had started with a desire to get Zoey away for awhile, although it would culminate in a hosting of the Qumari prime minister, trying to ease out of the hostile waters that had grown so fierce over the past week.

"Sir, I can't emphasize enough how important the next few days are. This summit is a delicate balance – you have to appear a family man, yet we can't overstate the need for action right now. Josh and Toby are going to stay here and continue to drum up excitement over Sabir. You'll have a couple days alone with your family, then the Minister will join us. There'll be two days of schmoozing, lots of press attention – you've been gone, we need to see you getting things done. Then we return to D.C., a formal state dinner, remind the people of the formality of the Office. Two days after that is Sabir's confirmation – or lack thereof, I guess we should say. This is extremely sensitive, on multiple levels – the anti-Muslim fervor is starting to get underway. We've gotten reports on racially motivated attacks throughout the country, and Haffley's been running around in front of any camera he can find, stirring the pot. An immigration ceremony got a bomb threat this morning, we've been encouraging more secluded, low-key oaths due to the xenophobic bent that's in vogue-"

The President opened his mouth to respond, although they were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Yeah, come in," he called back, watching as Deborah Fiderer entered the room.

"Sir, Toby would like a word."

"Yeah, send him in," the President nodded.

She turned and gestured, and a moment later Toby appeared, entering and seating himself across from the President, on the sofa next to Leo.

"Hey, how are the babies?" Jed asked, suddenly smiling as he surveyed the younger man. Toby's face lit up, a small smile lifting his handsome features.

"They're good, Sir, thank you. I'm heading over to see them in a little while, if I can manage an escape."

"Good, good. By all means, you should get a moment to enjoy with them on the holiday."

"I don't think they're quite old enough to appreciate the significance, Sir," Toby smiled.

"He sasses me," Jed said to Leo, shaking his head.

"Sir, I wanted to talk to you about Birardi," Toby said solemnly.

"'We appreciate his years of service, respect his right to disagree, and wish him the best of luck,'" the President recited, waving his hand. "What's the problem?"

"I'm concerned about C.J.," he said carefully.

Leo frowned, exchanging a glance with the President. "I'll talk to her," he said after a moment.

"No sir, I think I can handle it. I just wanted you to be aware." He gave Leo a tight smile.

Jed paused, then nodded. "All right. You concerned about anyone else?" he asked pointedly.

Toby gazed at him for a moment. "No, Sir," he said softly.

COMMERCIAL

Josh sat in his office, leaning far back in his chair as he skimmed a file on Bob Russell, his face contorting in distaste.

"Josh?"

He looked up, suddenly leaning forward in his chair. "Ah. Hey Donna."

"Joey Lucas called back. She'll be here tomorrow afternoon."

"Ah, great," he said distractedly, nodding.

"Can I get you anything? Water?"

"Oh, I'm good," he said quickly, not meeting her eyes.

"Haffley wanted to know what you thought of the information he sent over on Bob Russell."

"Tell him to shove it up his-"

"Josh?"

He glanced at her for a split-second. "Right. Tell him I'm still going over it."

"Sure." She nodded. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He shrugged noncommittally. "Just trying to figure out this VP thing."

"I really like Ismael Sabir." She smiled.

He looked away. "Yeah," he said distantly. "So does the President."

"Don't you?"

Josh shook his head. "Of course I do, I just – Listen, Donna, I've got a lot to get done here. Do you mind?"

"Oh. Sure," she replied. "Let me know if you change your mind about the water."

"Thanks," he said absently, turning back to the report as she closed the door behind her.

o-o-o-o-o

C.J. entered the Briefing Room confidently, her eyes skimming the crowd. She caught Danny's eye, and looked down at her report.

"Good morning, boys and girls. We're happy to report that Zoey Bartlet and the other victims of the recent terrorist attack are continuing to recover steadily, and the doctors agree none of them have sustained any permanent damage. Senator Rigsby is still in the hospital, but he's in stable condition and is expected to be released early next week." C.J. cleared her throat. "Zoey Bartlet will be making a brief appearance in the Rose Garden after lunch today, although she will not be taking questions at this time. The White House is currently arranging for a formal sit-down interview, although no final plans have been decided upon. We expect to have an update on that in the coming days." She took a breath.

"And in other news...Ismael Sabir's confirmation hearing is scheduled for this Thursday. He'll be making press appearances throughout the weekend, one-on-one interviews are still being arranged through his office, rather than through the White House, although that's likely to change next week. We've also got a human interest story coming out of Immigration, reports are that there have been threats on ceremonies featuring new citizens originating from Arab countries. The White House will be hosting private swearing-in ceremonies later today, and we'd like to remind Americans that we must not allow our fear or private prejudices to sway us from continuing our role as a safe haven for those seeking to escape oppressive regimes, and find a better life." She glanced up. "Chris?"

"C.J., does the White House have a comment on Secretary Birardi's resignation?"

"The President appreciates his many years of exceptional service, respects his right to disagree, and wishes him well on his future endeavors. He'll be missed," C.J. replied, nodding. Danny watched her, silent.

"And what about the questions continuing to be raised about the decision to assassinate Shareef, rather than detain him?" Kate interjected.

"I'll have more for you on Shareef at the three o'clock briefing," C.J. said, closing her notebook. "That's all for now."

o-o-o-o-o

Down the hall, Josh sat in Leo's office, forming a triangle with Leo and Ismael Sabir. The two younger men sat facing the Chief-of-Staff, a clear alliance against his skepticism.

"This meeting is a waste of time," Leo said in his gravelly voice, sighing.

"Well, as long as we're keeping things optimistic," Josh panned back, rolling his eyes.

Leo shot a look at him. "All right, so we've thrown a curveball to the Republican leadership, especially with that stunt he pulled." He jerked his thumb at Sabir. "But so what? We're still talking about confirming – forgive me - " he glanced at the man. "A brown guy with a Muslim name and a unambiguously left-wing agenda, a young guy no one outside of Illinois had heard of a week ago, with no defense experience. At the end of the day – so what?"

"Can I get a say in this?" Ismael interrupted. The two men turned to look at him. "Listen, I'm a logical man, but I'm also a hopeful man," he continued. "I think, if we give it our all – well, maybe we still don't have a shot. That's valid." He forced a smile. "But at least we'd be sending a message. My name's already been given to Congress, we're already in this together. And of course there will be fallout if I'm not confirmed, but it doesn't just have to be on our side." He looked at Josh and Leo. "We just survived a national tragedy. The people are on our side – sympathetic, relieved, and full of remembrance of what brings us together. So when Haffley makes his show of things, he's not going to look good. The Republicans are going to look low, like they're kicking the President when he's down, eager to make a grandstanding and suck every morsel of opportunity out of this before it's over. It's exploitative. The political climate's all wrong for it. The only thing people like less than when their leader is attacked, is the people actually doing the attacking. I honestly think this has a chance of blowing up in the Republicans' faces."

Leo and Josh exchanged a look, communicating silently. Leo sighed, leaning back in his chair and gazing at the ceiling.

o-o-o-o-o

Some miles away, Toby sat in Andy Wyatt's living room, Molly in his arms, with her brother across from them, held by their mother. Andy sat making cooing noises at their new son, his tiny hand reaching out to touch the ends of her long hair. Toby smiled in spite of himself, absorbing the image.

"I think we need to talk about the other day," he said after a moment. Andy frowned, looking caught. "Toby..."

"Andy, I don't want things to be bad between us," Toby said softly. "These two little people – they're the most important things in the world to me. I bought that house for you - for them."

Andy bit her lip, watching him.

"It's not fair to you. I don't want to lead you on, or give you false hope," she said in a low voice. Toby shook his head.

"You don't owe me anything – in any sense. I just...it would mean a lot to me if you'd take it."

Andy looked at him, torn, before giving him a small smile.

o-o-o-o-o

Zoey sat in the living room of the residence, poring over a pile of letters, giggles escaping her. Charlie looked uncomfortable, torn between joining her laughter and genuine concern.

"'Dear Zoey,'" she read. "'I hope that they don't kill you, but if they do, that they make it quick.' Look, she put a smiley face at the end."

"You don't need to read those," Charlie told her.

"Of course I do. Some of them are really sweet. Oh god, look at this one – she says not to be self-conscious, because my bruise brings out the color in my eyes. Well, that's thoughtful."

Charlie winced.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" Will stepped in, looking uncertain.

"Not at all. Do you mind if Charlie stays? He thinks he has to baby-sit me."

"Of course. You having a good Independence Day? I never much liked fireworks, but seeing them from the White House will be something."

"I love fireworks," Zoey grinned. "They're so loud, they drown out Dad's speeches."

"I'm sorry?" Will asked.

"'Jefferson Lives,'" she said simply.

"Ah, he's never been here for it," Charlie said, noticing the look of confusion on Will's face.

"Oh, boy, are you in for a treat." Zoey giggled. "Dad's trivia takes on a whole new level on the Fourth of July. 'Jefferson lives' were John Adams's last words. They both died on the same day, the Fourth of July, fifty years after the Declaration of Indepence was written. Adams didn't know Jefferson had died earlier that day. It's morbid, it's historical, it's patriotic – hope and irony. Dad loves it."

"Quite a story," Will commented. "Okay. Well, I'm going to ask you a few questions, then pen a draft for you to look over. I'm sure C.J.'s told you, you don't need to worry about questions today, but there's always a chance someone will shout something out at you anyway, and I want you to be prepared."

"Sure," Zoey replied.

"Now, don't worry about being articulate or poetic, that's my job. Just talk about how you feel."

"How I feel?" Zoey repeated.

"Kind of a vague question, I know," Will apologized.

Zoey paused. "I feel grateful. I feel guilty. About Molly. I have nightmares about her." She paused. "I shouldn't say that, should I?"

Will bit his lip. "Zoey, do you mind if I ask – I'm sure you'll get this question anyway. But have you talked to anyone?"

"You mean like a therapist?"

Will nodded.

"Dad brought it up. I'm thinking about it."

"Okay. If you're asked, we'll just say 'I'm grateful for all those who have been helping me through this difficult time.'"

"Okay." Zoey breathed out. "Listen, I think I need some fresh air. Could we finish this later?"

Will stood. "Absolutely. I'll get back to you."

Zoey nodded, standing too. Charlie touched her arm, grounding her. "Cool. Thanks, Will."

COMMERCIAL

"C.J., can I talk to you?" Donna asked nervously. C.J. looked up, startled.

"Of course. What's going on?" she asked, putting down the briefing folder in front of her.

"It's stupid, really." Donna looked uncomfortable. "And I mean, it's not about work, not exactly..."

C.J. frowned, concerned. "You can talk to me," she said reassuringly.

"I feel like such an idiot, even bringing it up," Donna said uncertainly.

"Why don't you sit down?" C.J. invited.

Donna sat in the chair across from C.J.'s desk, her eyes watching Gail circle around the bowl. It was a moment before she spoke.

"Well. When Zoey was found – I was with Josh, and we got the news, and we were excited..." Her voice drifted off, unsure how to continue. "God, this is stupid." C.J. raised her eyebrows, waiting.

"And just...you know how he gets when he's pumped, I've seen him pick you up and spin you around - like after the election?" C.J. nodded, encouraging her to continue. "And it was kind of like that. He was excited, and he grabbed me and hugged me, and he-" Donna paused.

"Well, it sounds like more than it was. He sort of kissed me. Just for a second. Not much more than a peck on the lips. It was fast. And I just – I don't know, it was nothing - really, it wasn't – except ever since, he hasn't made eye contact with me."

C.J. bit her lip, thinking, when a knock interrupted them.

"C.J.?" Carol's voice filtered through.

"Yeah," she called back distractedly.

Carol opened the door, flashing them a smile. "You've got the next briefing in five minutes."

o-o-o-o-o

"It's nice to finally get to sit down with you, Sir," Ismael Sabir said, smiling charismatically as he shook the President's hand. "It's an honor, truly."

"Please, take a seat. We've got a lot to talk about." Jed scrutinized him. "Your speech was brilliant. I never got the chance to thank you."

Ismael smiled.

"What got to me more than the words was the delivery. You meant them."

Ismael raised his eyebrows. "Sir?"

"Leo tells me you've got strategy, and your history shows you're clearly a pragmatist. But I think you meant what you said. There's a strange trail over your voting record of going against the grain on key issues." Jed smiled. "You're going to drive Josh Lyman nuts."

"I think I've already started that, Sir," Ismael's eyes twinkled.

"It might surprise you to hear me say this, but John Hoynes was a good man. I didn't particularly like him, but he was. Maybe not as good as you seem to be, but he had heart. He has many flaws, some of which did not suit the office of Vice-President, but he had a conscience, which isn't something you can say of everyone in this town."

Ismael frowned, hesitating.

"You're asking yourself why I'm telling you this. I know you're not a kid, but this level of publicity – it's a whole new ball game. I'm telling you that I'm aware good people can do very bad things."

"Yes, Sir."

"And not everyone's an idealist. We're talking about piranhas here. Danny Concannon's a pitbull when he wants to be, but he's one of the ones with integrity. There are reporters out there who will do their best to tear you and your family apart, and this is before you even have a chance to take office. And Jeff Haffley's not as stupid as some of my staff would like to think."

"Yes, Sir."

"If this happens – and I'm not promising it will – we'll need complete honesty in our relationship," Jed said seriously. "We can't stand through another scandal. Your vetting process was exhaustive, Leo McGarry made sure of that, but there are always crumbs under the carpet, ready to be scooped up and force-fed to us, and you never know what crumb will be the one we choke on."

"That's a pretty colorful metaphor." Ismael smiled.

"I like to practice coming up with phrases that would make Toby Ziegler's skin crawl," Jed nodded agreeably.

"Sir, what exactly is it you're asking me?" Ismael asked, turning serious.

"It's not just what I'm asking you. This meeting is a warning, Mr. Sabir. I can say better than anyone what this position can do to your family. I've got a body man that's taught me more about the persistence of racism in this country than thirty years of public service ever did. Your speeches are grandiose, idealistic, and that concerns me more than it would have done five years ago. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Ismael nodded. "I do, Sir."

Jed nodded, accepting. "All right. So I'll ask again – what do I need to know before this thing gets started?"

COMMERCIAL

"C.J., what does the White House say in response to concerns that this assassination on a foreign leader will establish a precedent that will pave the way for our own leaders to be targeted in the future?" Katie called out.

"I'd remind you that Abdul Shareef was not taken out for his role as a foreign leader, but rather for his leadership position in a terrorist organization, who among other things, was prevented from blowing up the Golden Gate Bridge. Furthermore, I think the events of the last week show that our leaders have already been targeted, even before the story about Shareef broke." She avoided Danny's eye. "And with that, we'd better wrap up – I know you're all eager to get in position for Miss Bartlet's appearance. I'd like to convey again that she will not be taking questions, and furthermore, this young woman has been through an ordeal, so your discretion and sensitivity is appreciated." She looked at them pointedly.

o-o-o-o-o

Out in the Rose Garden, C.J. gently fixed a stray lock of hair falling against Zoey's face, as the girl stood holding her mother's hand. "You sure you're up for this?"

"You sound like Mom," Zoey laughed, grinning up at her mother. "It's just a walk-through."

"Good girl. And I don't think you need to worry. I informed the Press Corps that anyone who tried to talk to you was getting their credentials pulled."

"Thanks, C.J. I'll be fine." She smiled.

"Okay." C.J. took a deep breath. "You ready?" She looked back and forth between Zoey and the First Lady.

"Yep." Zoey answered.

"Okay. Here he comes."

The President joined them, locking his elbow into Zoey's free arm, and she set off, flanked by her parents. The crowd went wild, a mass of press and onlookers. She caught snippets of their well-wishes, with calls of "We love you, Zoey!" and more than one sign reading "AMERICA'S DAUGHTER."

After a moment she dropped her mother's hand, waving at them and beaming. The crowd cheered.

o-o-o-o-o

An hour later the President walked into the huge hall, watching the Judge lead the oath of citizenship. His eyes clouded and he closed his eyes, his hands in his pockets. He opened his eyes as the man finished, announcing him as he made his way to the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I wanted to personally welcome you, our newest Americans. It's my understanding you had a difficult time finding a place to meet today – a piece of tragic irony, given that this was supposed to be your place of refuge. It is a reminder, however, of the dynamic nature of democracy – from our country's birth, people have been looking for a safe place to call their own, no matter how unpopular their opinions. It is a continuing struggle, but one I'm happy to see you joining, as we work together to make this country ever better. Now, if you'll place your right hand on your heart, face the flag, and take this pledge with me." He paused, looking out over them, as their voices rang out in unison. "'I pledge allegiance, to the flag, of the United States of America..."

o-o-o-o-o

C.J. sat behind her desk, half turned towards the window, the sounds of fireworks echoing through the office. Her short hair was blocking her face as she reread the letter that had been printed in the Post that morning. She wiped her eye, angry at herself.

"C.J.?"

C.J. turned her chair, glancing up. "God, Danny, you scared me."

Danny looked at her, a heavy moment between them. "Sorry," he said softly. "The door was open." She ducked her head, then pushed her glasses up. "Yeah," she replied.

"So Haffley's throwing a tantrum, huh? You guys worried?"

"Danny."

"Sorry." He paused. "I heard Bingo Bob's in the running," Danny said lightly, a shadow of a smile crossing his face. "Gotta wonder which choice is driving Toby's blood pressure up more."

"Danny, you know I can't talk about it," C.J. sighed, exhausted, fingering a folder on her desk, the newspaper still on her lap.

"How come you're not out watching the fireworks?"

"I can see them from here," C.J. said, turning back towards the window.

Danny watched her. "That was a hell of a statement from Birardi."

C.J. glanced at him. "Yeah." She put the paper on her desk, standing and walking across the room, finally taking a seat on her couch. _'__Violence is the last resort of civilized nations. Violence wrapped in secrecy is the choice of thugs.'_ The words repeated themselves in her mind, not for the first time that day.

Danny gazed at her in silence, his face shadowed by the bright lights of the fireworks flashing through the window. "You mind if I just sit with you?"

She looked up at him. "Sure," she said, as he joined her, both watching the colored explosions visible from the window.

o-o-o-o-o


	5. Son of David

**Episode Five: **Son of David

**Companion Episode:** None really

**Author:** AmandasArmada

**Author's Note:** _Reviewww_ if you're interested to know where this is heading!

o-o-o-o-o

"I hate nature," C.J. grumbled, her foot slipping against a rock. Toby smirked at her.

They were stuck at Camp David, hosting a retreat for the Qumari Prime Minister in an attempt to smooth some very ruffled feathers, or what Leo had referred to as "the most obnoxious euphemism for preventing outright war" he had ever heard. After being stuck on the Press Bus for over 50 miles, then dropped on a dirty farm (whatever the President said, she maintained that it was a farm), C.J. wasn't surprised to find herself in a bad mood, ready for a spa day and a nice Merlot.

"Yep," she confirmed, slapping a mosquito. "Hate it, hate it, hate it."

"I thought Democrats were supposed to care about the environment," Danny cracked from behind her, and she glared at him over her shoulder. "I'm a complicated woman," she remarked dryly. "I'm unpredictable, I hold many mysteries."

"That, and you're afraid of snakes," Toby pointed out. C.J. shuddered. "Can you not?"

"All right, boys and girls, the next word out of anyone's mouth that isn't glorifying the wonder of nature is going to be the tip off for a speech about the history of Camp David," the President's voice carried out, and C.J. shot the men around her a warning look. Danny grinned.

"Please, Mr. President, I'm curious. Can you tell us where Camp David got its name?" Danny called out. C.J. spun around to glare at him, biting back a loud retort. Danny smiled at her innocently. She turned back, slumping up the drive, muttering under her breath about the atrocities of men.

o-o-o-o-o

A short while later, Zoey Bartlet walked down the path, her bruises fading and covered with makeup. "Hey!" Charlie called, jogging to catch up with her. She gave him a smile. "Hey, Charlie."

"I'm sorry, did you want to be alone?"

She shook her head. "It's fine. I've had the past couple days here to explore on my own. Not that Mom let me out of her sight without an argument. Did you enjoy your time off?"

Charlie shrugged. "It wasn't really time off. Josh has had me at his beck and call ever since you guys set out."

"Really? Why? What was Donna doing?" She frowned.

"Beats me. He had her running all over D.C. though, setting up meetings on Sabir. It wasn't so bad though, I got to help out Joey Lucas – she and her guy taught me a few signs, you wanna see? I learned your name."

"How romantic," she pretended to gush, giggling. "I know how to sign my name," she added. "We learned in primary school."

"Ah, a woman that's hard to impress. I can respect that."

She giggled at him, as they set up down the path. He looked at her. "How you been feeling?"

"If I had a nickel for every time someone's asked me that, I could pay off the deficit."

"Right. Sorry."

"No, it's sweet of you to care." She sighed. "I'm waiting to be ready to talk about it, but I don't know if there's even anything to say. Everything I think of is so obvious, I feel like an idiot saying it out loud."

"Yeah. I felt like that after my mom died."

Zoey looked at him. "Really?"

"Sure. People would ask me how I was feeling, and all I wanted to say was '...I'm feeling _miserable,_ how do you think?' You get the idea."

She squeezed his hand. "Thanks, Charlie."

"For what?" he asked, surprised.

She smiled. "Just for getting it."

o-o-o-o-o

In the cabin, Jed was busy trying to make awkward small talk with the Qumari Prime Minister, who kept shooting him dirty looks that were less subtle than he imagined. Leo was biting his tongue, and Toby was tapping his foot, looking aggravated and slightly bored.

"You looking forward to the state dinner?" Jed asked, forcing an uncomfortable smile. The Prime Minister stared at him frostily. "...Yeah, alright," Jed muttered, looking away. Between the kidnapping and the assassination leak, the relationship between their two countries was tenser than ever, hence the current charade. The absurdity of the situation was threatening to overwhelm him, and he looked around desperately for a distraction.

"Sir? Are you ready?" C.J. asked, stepping in.

"Please," Jed said quickly, and C.J. smiled and nodded, leading the small gaggle of reporters in. "Remember what I said," she muttered to them, looking pointedly at Danny. "This is a sensitive meeting. No questions about Shareef, no accusations – you guys know what's appropriate."

They made faces at her, nodding as they followed her in.

"Katie," C.J. said.

"Sir, how is your country recovering from the recent attacks?" Katie asked, gazing at the Prime Minister.

"We are ever strong, and looking forward to the future. We are optimistic about our ability to mend our relationship with the United States, and would like to voice our happiness again at the safe return of President Bartlet's daughter."

C.J. hesitated. "Danny?"

"Is it true that there's growing hostility amongst your citizens, both for and against those responsible for the attack, and do you think – as some have claimed – that it could escalate into military conflict?"

C.J. closed her eyes, willing the ground to swallow her up. Before she could open her mouth to reprimand him, the Minister had answered.

"Our nation is one of many worldviews, though we are united in condemning the actions taken against your country. Islam is a religion of peace, and we have no intention of allowing violent renegades to go unpunished."

C.J. cleared her throat, shaking her head at Danny. "Steve?"

o-o-o-o-o

Josh sat fuming at his desk, working on a memo. On the screen in his office, a replay of Speaker Haffley's remarks on Capitol Beat that morning was buzzing at low volume. Josh shot it another look of contempt, scribbling something out.

"Josh? You asked me to give you a five minute head's up on the meeting with Joey." Donna peered into the office.

He glanced up. "Yeah, thanks," he said distractedly.

"Everything okay?"

Josh laughed. "It's funny, Haffley didn't have a _word_ to say against Qumar when he was lobbying for oil subsidies," he muttered. "And now, all of a sudden we're 'one step away from negotiating with terrorists.'" He shook his head, still not looking at her.

"You should put that in the memo. Go on the air yourself, say that."

"Hmm," he nodded evasively, his eyes glued to the papers in front of him.

"Or you could revert back to the old standby, just call him an idiot and burn any chance of a future bridge with the Republicans."

"Mmhmm," he said again, still pouring over his work.

"You're not even listening to me," Donna complained.

"No, that's a good idea. Why don't you get working on that?" He replied, confirming her suspicions.

"Josh, why are you acting so _weird_?" Donna finally exploded, staring at him.

Josh glanced at her at last. "What do you mean? I'm not acting weird."

"You're acting weird! If this is about that stupid kiss, you're being an idiot. I know it didn't mean anything. You _have_ kissed a woman before, haven't you? Is this normally how you follow up? If the women on LemonLyman could see this side of you - God, I don't know Josh..."

"What kiss? The Zoey kiss? I'd already forgotten about that," Josh said evasively, flashing her a smile as he tried to laugh it off.

"Josh," she said skeptically. "You haven't looked at me for longer than half a second in almost a week. Whatever this is, you need to get over it. You're driving me nuts, and you're freaking out about _nothing_. I thought you'd forget about it when Joey Lucas arrived, but if anything you haven't gotten worse."

"I haven't gotten _worse._"

"You've gotten worse, Josh!"

Josh sighed. "Okay. You're right." He ran his hands over his face, leaning back. "I don't know what's gotten into me."

"Well, get it out of you," Donna pouted. "We've got work to do, and we can't do it if you're shutting me out."

"Right. I'm sorry," Josh said sincerely. "I'm being stupid."

"I mean god, Josh, it's not like I think you're in love with me or something," Donna laughed.

There was a pause and they exchanged a silent look, then were interrupted by Kenny knocking on the open door. Donna bit her lip, moving over to let him and Joey into the room.

"We got our new numbers back," Kenny relayed, watching as Joey Lucas signed away, looking excited. "It's good, Josh. He's polling at 73 percent."

"Berryhill?" Josh asked. "We expected that. The President's ratings are still spiked too. It doesn't mean they think he's Vice-Presidential."

"No," Kenny said. "Not Berryhill. Berryhill is at 67. It's Sabir."

Josh sat up, leaning forward and staring. "What?"

"Ismael Sabir has a 73 overall approval rating."

"You're kidding," Josh breathed. "Even with the anti-Muslim rhetoric?"

"That's not all." Kenny scrutinized Joey carefully. "His leadership numbers are still low, but these speeches are moving people, Josh. We're getting calls. Voter registration amongst 18 – 25 year-olds has skyrocketed over the past week."

Josh looked at Donna. "Okay. We need to leak this. Can you get C.J. on the phone? And after that, I want to see Will Bailey in my office." He turned to Joey. "You're doing great work," he said slowly. "We've still got a fight ahead of us, but this – we can work with this."

o-o-o-o-o

"Danny, Steve, Chris – I need to see you guys for a second." C.J. stood in the living room at Camp David, looking out at the group of reporters.

The three exchanged glances, leaving their colleagues as they followed her into an empty room.

"All right. There's something we've been holding off on, and you're not going to like it. It's biased, but it's still news." She looked at them. "Speaker Haffley gave us a list a few days ago of people he would be willing to help confirm, assuming Sabir loses. Moreover, he explicitly told us not to expect a Sabir confirmation."

"C.J." Chris rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well, that's the next bit. We've got polling data that puts Sabir at 73 percent. If you call the White Office and ask to speak with Joey Lucas's assistant, they'll give you more information. You're also going to want to look at data on surges in voter registration, especially among youth and in inner cities."

Chris began to look interested. She exchanged a glance with Steve, as Danny watched her silently, his head tilted to the side.

"Well? Go leak it!" C.J. exclaimed, and they started to scatter. "Stop smirking, Danny, this is important. I want this out there. Haul ass."

o-o-o-o-o

"We need to get on the phone, start talking strategy with Josh and Will," Leo declared, gazing from the Toby to C.J. "We need a firm stance – are we going all in, or not? And how much of that do we release to the Republicans?"

"I don't know if the approval rating is enough to really scare them," C.J. pointed out. "Not as much as we need. They're going to tell themselves that this spike is just that, a spike, and it'll fade. It won't make them nervous enough to vote 'yes' for fear of backlash."

"Not necessarily," Jed said thoughtfully. "We don't want them _too_ scared, after all. That's the danger of catering to Sabir's target group."

Toby nodded. "We want the Republicans to think he's just effective enough to make not confirming him a political mistake, but not so effective that he's too hard to beat in three years."

"Agreed," Leo said. "What we need to do is play up _everything_. The Republicans will certainly help us out on the negatives. C.J., we don't just want the approvals leaked. Let the Republicans know the areas he's scoring low in. Meanwhile, we get Josh to do his thing with the Democrats. Toby, when we get back, I expect you to help him out. And team up with Will, we need more of those speeches – make a special emphasis on leadership and patriotism. Other than that, I think the key is to play up the partisanship – the Democrats can't vote against him without alienating their base, and the Republicans will think he's _too_ liberal to be a serious threat."

"Aren't the Republicans right?" C.J. asked, after a moment's hesitation.

Leo exchanged a glance with the President. "Sabir has made some incredible strides in a very short time. More importantly, there's no guarantee the Republicans are going to confirm any nominee that has a better chance of winning in three years."

"All right," Jed sighed. "Let's go rescue Abbey from hostess duties. That prime minister isn't what you'd call 'charismatic'."

o-o-o-o-o

"...You rang?" Will asked, peeking his head into Josh Lyman's office. Josh looked up. "Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about a speech we're going to have Sabir give."

"Another one? I swear to god Josh, I'm with you on this, but you're sucking me dry here."

"Well, who do you have to thank for that? If you hadn't pulled your little coup and gotten the ball rolling on him for real-"

"Lesson learned," Will promised. "But you can't say it didn't go over well."

"Exactly my point, it was a roaring success. Which is why you're going to write more of them."

Will sighed, sitting. "All right...on what? What's the topic?"

"Anything, but we want to play up the patriotism element. Freedom, democracy, the importance of civic duty...we need him waving flags and kissing babies."

"Well, I'll be sure to write from the heart then," Will said dryly. "Maybe we can get him a little American flag pin to wear on his lapel."

"That's not a bad idea."

"Josh."

"Look, this is what you do. You buzz up audiences, make them feel something."

"Well, excuse me for wanting to write something with substance rather than a string of buzzwords."

"Did I say you couldn't have substance? Substance is good! Just a certain kind of substance."

"You're not worried that's going to look like we're exploiting a near-tragedy for political points?"

"Right, because the Republicans definitely didn't do that!" Josh snapped back incredulously.

"I thought we were supposed to be better than them," Will murmured.

"Listen, we can't help anyone if we don't have political power," Josh said diplomatically. "And all right, maybe I got a little carried away, but it's not like I'm asking you to hang a poster of Zoey Bartlet's bruised face behind him while he speaks."

"The fact that that even occurred to you concerns me," Will deadpanned.

Josh shook his head. "Leo wants us to play up the liberal aspects of Sabir – and we shouldn't have any problem finding them. He's youthful, funny, intelligent – we need to showcase his charm, and push the politics."

"Got any pictures of him kissing babies I can spread around?" Will asked dubiously.

"Donna's an angel. She dug up video of Sabir volunteering in Chicago as part of a news special they filmed a few years ago."

"Good Lord."

Josh just laughed. "Come on, you've met the guy. He's right up your alley. When he talks about this stuff, he's actually sincere. That should make it easy for you." He looked at him more soberly. "Seriously. We need this." The other man nodded.

"I'll get it done, Josh," Will promised.

o-o-o-o-o

Fresh air was overrated, C.J. decided, stepping up the hill. Admittedly she had been looking for an escape from the President's waxing about the WPA and the name of Eisenhower's grandson, but surely there should have been a way to achieve that without getting quite so dirty, and nearly ruining another outfit while she was at it. Lost in thought, she didn't notice the heel of her boot catching on a tree root until gravity's pull suddenly seemed significantly stronger.

She shrieked as she fell, feeling her leg twist painfully as she went down, limbs flailing.

"Oh, hell," she muttered, grabbing her ankle and wincing. "Owowowowow." She groaned, half in pain, half in humiliation of her fall. At least no one had been around to witness it.

"C.J.?"

She turned her head, dreading seeing the face that matched the voice. She shook her head, watching him come into the clearing.

"Just walk away, Danny. You didn't see anything. Now walk away."

"Ahh, it's not _me_ walking away that worries me, it's you doing it." He gave her a half-smile, his forehead wrinkling in concern as he looked her over.

"Danny-!"

He chuckled. "I'm just saying, a six-foot woman hopping on one leg, it's an image to write home about."

"The only time you're going to see me standing on one leg is when I'm using the other to kick your ass," she informed him.

"That's the second time today you've mentioned my ass, you know."

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying, I think you might have a little preoccupation. A crush, maybe? A girlish thing?"

She rolled her eyes, not answering.

Danny smiled, stepping over to her. "C'mon. Let me see it." He crouched down, coming to eye level, and pulling the end of her pant leg up a couple of inches.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Your ankle is sprained, C.J.," he pointed out. "You can't walk on it. And if you try, it's just going to take longer to heal, so unless you want to be on crutches for the foreseeable future...I mean, don't get me wrong, it'd be a lot of fun at briefings-"

"You're actually enjoying this, aren't you."

"Never," he promised, flashing her his most charming smile as he reached for her. "All right, up we go."

"You know, I can just lean against you," she sputtered, suddenly realizing what he was about to do.

"Ah, that's not as fun. Come on."

"No, I can do it. It's just a – _oww ww_!" She swore, grabbing Danny for support as she tried to put weight on her ankle. He bit back a laugh, watching her.

"You ready to walk back now?" he asked, his eyes twinkling. She looked at him balefully, sighing as she clutched her ankle. "Fine. It's fine," she said, resigned.

He put his arms under her legs, hoisting her up and into his arms. "I'm sure the First Lady's got some painkillers, we'll have her take a look at you."

"Just put me down before we get there," she emphasized. "For God's sake, there are photographers here."

"Yeah, yeah," Danny nodded. "Although no one's going to think anything of it, C.J. You and gravity have a long and historic rivalry, which the press corps, with their impeccable observational skills, have not failed to pick up on."

"It's still not a picture I'm crazy about the idea of," she retorted, sighing.

"Don't worry, every reporter here is afraid of at least one of us," Danny pointed out.

"So, this make you feel manly?" She asked, rolling her eyes as he shifted her weight to get a better grip.

"Not particularly," he laughed. "Why? Did you forget I'm outdoorsy? Kayaking builds muscles, you know."

He grinned at her. She looked up at him, shaking her head. He chuckled, starting to carry her down the long hill.

o-o-o-o-o

Back on Pennsylvania Avenue, Josh was listening to an impassioned speech by Haffley. His appreciation was hampered by the fact that Haffley seemed to be under the impression he was in front of a large crowd without a mic, rather than standing a few feet away in his office.

"And what REALLY pisses me off, is that every step of the way, you've been working behind our backs! That Press Conference, and every schmaltzy, bleeding-heart schlock your office has spewed out since, all against our express recommendations."

"Well, maybe if _you_ had been willing to work _with_ us, instead of making demands on us and refusing to consider the President's own recommendations for the VP..."

"That was Walken's call, not mine," Haffley retorted.

"Oh? Was Bob Russell Walken's idea too?"

Haffley was silent.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

o-o-o-o-o

"You know, I'm still pissed at you for that stunt you pulled with the Prime Minister," C.J. spat, as Danny carried her along. C.J. huffed as Danny stumbled over a root. "What was that?" she snickered. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"You know, I'm being pretty gallant here, and all you can do is complain," he half-teased.

"I thought you were outdoorsy," she shot back.

"I am," he replied, looking down at her, still curled in his arms. "I'm outdoorsy. I kayak." He grinned.

"Stop flirting with me."

"I'm not flirting with you. It's not my fault you just can't resist me."

"Right, because being carted around on a broken ankle through a snake-filled wood in Maryland is my idea of a dream date."

"If it's me doing the carting, it certainly seems that way." He smirked. "And it's not broken, C.J. Although if you're hinting you want me to kiss it better..."

"This is your idea of not flirting?"

"Touche. I guess your vibes rubbed off on me."

"I'm not giving you any vibes, Danny."

"Ah-kay."

Their eyes met and she tried her best to scowl, although from the way he was looking at her lips, which she felt curling into a smile, she seemed to be failing.

"I can walk from here," she said faintly. "Or hop, at least."

"Sure," he said sweetly, sensing that they'd went too far. He set her down, and there was an awkward moment as they faced each other, their lips entirely too close. She felt her face turning red, but he smiled reassuringly, helping her wrap her arm around his shoulder, his grip on her nothing more than friendly.

o-o-o-o-o

"Ismael Sabir is a handsome man," Donna commented, watching the man deliver his latest speech on the screen in front of them.

"Please, the last thing we need is another lady's man acting as VP," Will replied bitterly, shaking his head. Josh shot him a glance, irritated even though he knew he had little right to be.

"_And an America where we are not judged by what God we worship, or the shade of our skin, but by our passion to do good, to build this country to its highest potential."_

"He's easy to write for. He has his own ideas, and such a cadence to his rhythm," Will said under his breath, his eyes glued to the screen.

"Why are all the good ones married?" Bonnie murmured from a few feet away, and Ginger nodded in agreement.

"_And to that end, I promise you that I will work tirelessly with the President to ensure peace through strength, and provide leadership guided by what makes this country great – the will of the people. Thank you, and God bless America."_

"He's good," Josh murmured.

"He really is," Donna sighed.

o-o-o-o-o

"C.J., why are you walking like that?" Toby asked, slightly amused as she staggered into the building.

"I'm not walking in any special way whatsoever," she replied, her eyes scanning the room. "Do you know where the First Lady is?"

"She's with Zoey upstairs. You fall down?" he asked, taking in the dirt stains on her pants.

"I have no idea what would possess you to think such a thing." She paused. "Can you go get her for me?"

"Yeah," Toby laughed. "By the way, while you were hiding from the President's lecture, you missed Sabir's latest opus."

"Will bring his A Game?" C.J. asked, seating herself a few feet away.

"I thought he laid it on a little thick," Toby understated, forcing a smile. "But it did what it needed to do."

"You're eager to get back there," C.J. nodded.

"Ah, yes. But first, I think I need to grab the First Lady. Just - sit there – try not to fall over," he encouraged her, shaking his head and heading for the stairs.

o-o-o-o-o

Josh glanced up at the knock on his door, calling his guests in and smiling warmly as Joey and Kenny entered his office.

"We've got the newest numbers in, and I think we've got all we're going to get," Kenny relayed, as Josh observed Joey's small smile. "His growth is steady. 'Strong leader' is up three points."

"You know, we always appreciate your help," Josh said grinning, meeting Joey's eyes. "You ever think about staying in Washington, pitching in full time?"

Joey laughed openly, and made a comment out loud about hating snow.

"Well, you sticking around for the dinner at least?" Josh asked, smiling.

"'I need to get back to California,'" Kenny translated, as Joey signed. "'It's past time for me to find a new candidate for the midterms.'"

Josh smiled at her. "But you've already got one. I've been trying to tell you for years."

Joey laughed again, shaking her head. They hugged briefly, and he smiled a little sadly as he watched them leave.

o-o-o-o-o

**The Next Night**

C.J. stepped into the East Room, a powder blue dress hugging her narrow frame.

"Wow."

She turned, grinning at the man who'd spoken. "Yeah, I _am_ pretty 'wow' tonight, aren't I?"

"Even more-so than usual, yes."

"You're awful at not flirting, you know." She smiled at him.

Danny opened his mouth to respond, but they were interrupted by Toby stepping up to C.J., glaring around at the happy faces. "God, I hate these things," he grumbled.

"Andy didn't want to come with you?" C.J. guessed.

"My ex-wife is at home with our newborn children, thank you for your concern," Toby said, giving her a look that told her not to push it any further. He glanced up and down at her. "Wow, you look great."

"Danny was just saying that," C.J. grinned.

"You wanna dance?" Toby asked.

She bit back a comment teasing him about how _flattered_ she was to be his second choice, deciding to be nice for tonight. "If you're careful. Abbey said I should try not to put too much weight on it."

She caught Danny's eye as she took Toby's hand. He was smiling at them, but she caught the look of wistfulness in his eyes. She felt bad, but there was nothing to be done about it. Nothing had changed.

o-o-o-o-o

"You're a heartbreaker, Donnatella," Josh smiled, his eyes running over her bright red evening gown. He frowned. "Are you wearing two different shoes?"

"Don't ask," Donna grumbled, shaking her head. Josh laughed loudly. She made a face at him.

"I'm glad you're back to normal. Or as normal as you ever are." Donna smiled. "It was good seeing Joey again, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Josh smiled.

"I didn't notice as many sparks," she said carefully.

"Oh – nah, I think we're both over it. She's seeing someone now, it seems pretty serious."

"Oh. That's nice."

Josh looked at her inquiringly. "For her," Donna said quickly.

"Yeah," Josh replied. She bit her lip, watching him.

A few feet away Jed stood watching the other guests, the companionable silence with his best friend broken as he sighed.

"The summit didn't go well," Jed remarked.

"Well, what did you expect? No one's getting _bombed_ any time soon, I'd call that a success," Leo replied.

"Yeah, okay," Jed admitted.

"Where's Abbey?" Leo looked around, searching for the First Lady.

"She's around here somewhere. She pops up now and then to plaster a fake smile on her face, stand on my arm for a minute, then disappears when she thinks it's safe."

"I thought the weekend at Camp David had helped you two patch things up," Leo frowned.

"It helped. I reckon she might even sleep in the same bed as me tonight," Jed sighed. "That doesn't mean she's forgiven me."

Leo nodded, looking forlorn.

o-o-o-o-o

Across the room, C.J. was standing at the bar, a glass of wine making its way down her throat. "Careful there, C.J.. You're already not the steadiest on your feet."

She turned quickly, smiling down at the smaller woman. "Good evening, Ma'am. That's a beautiful gown."

"You should talk, you've been making heads turn all night. But thank you, my dear." Abbey smiled. "That was good work you did yesterday. He sure is an interesting fellow, isn't he?"

"Ma'am?" She felt her heart skip a beat.

"Ismael Sabir. He's shaking things up more than usual around here." Abbey looked at her curiously.

C.J. forced a smile. "He's definitely making my job more interesting, that's for sure." She tried to find a way to bring up her concern for the night tactfully, as she scrutinized the First Lady. "You haven't seen the President around, have you?" She asked delicately, her eyes scanning the room.

"We already got a photo op," Abbey replied, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," C.J. nodded, knowing to steer clear of the conversation as Abbey waved her good-bye, turning away from her.

o-o-o-o-o

"I was just thinking you were due for a reappearance. You're like clockwork."

"Shut up and smile," Abbey murmured, turning to wave at someone across the room..

"Zoey mention to you she wants to do an interview?" Jed asked, cautious to broach the subject.

"Don't be ridiculous, she told me before she told you," Abbey informed him, taking his arm and smiling widely.

"She's spending time with Charlie again," Jed observed. "I never thought I'd say it, but I'm glad. I think I even saw a real smile on her face today."

"He's good for her. Always open with her, listens to her opinions, keeps her in the loop." Abbey said casually, continuing to smile around the room. Jed grimaced.

"You know, I was thinking, it might be good to get her to speak with Stanley Keyworth."

"The guy Josh talked to?" Abbey glanced at him.

He nodded. "Maybe we could all benefit from it, in fact."

Abbey shook her head. "Chief-of-Staff goes to AA meetings, the President's in family therapy...you ever wonder, you know, we can't be the first. But somehow it's our dirty laundry that gets aired – our children that are put in danger...I'm starting to think that transition memo you got on the first day wasn't nearly comprehensive enough. Make sure you remember that when it's time for the next guy."

Jed nodded, gesturing gently with his elbow so she was forced to face him. "I think meeting with Keyworth will be a good idea."

"I agree," Abbey said softly. "You shouldn't expect this to be fixed overnight, though."

"I don't," Jed said seriously. "But in the meantime, you want to dance?"


	6. Han

Chapter 6: Han

Author: AmandasArmada

Author's Note: _Some of the scenes, lines, and plot points of this chapter have been borrowed from the show. These are the property of their respective creators. (A reminder, as the series progresses, these instances will occur less and less – in fact, this will be the last time the story is based heavily on an existing episode for the foreseeable future. The reason I kept the basic plot of this episode is I think it's a perfect time for a turning point in the series...)_

Casting Notes: Senator Rick Taylor played by Joe Flanigan

o-o-o-o-o OPENING MUSIC DRUMROLL o-o-o-o-o

"Hey Josh, what's this I'm hearing about Taylor?" C.J. asked brusquely, sticking her head into Josh Lyman's office and looking at him expectantly.

"Ah, nothing. Well – something - " Josh admitted, seeing her skeptical expression, "-but I'm working on it. Don't worry about it," he added, shooting her a confident smile. She raised an eyebrow, then looked over her shoulder.

"Hey Donna?" she called.

"Yeah," came the assistant's muffled reply.

"Is Josh going to be able to pull through on this thing with Taylor?" C.J. called.

"Yeah, I'm working on it," Donna replied.

C.J. looked satisfied, turning back to face him. "Hurry up. We've got like two minutes," she cajoled him. Josh sighed, hitting save on his computer before standing up and heading down the hall.

"So, what the hell's going on with Taylor?" Toby muttered to Josh, falling into step with him as they approached the Oval Office for Senior Staff.

"Did someone send out a memo?" Josh grumbled, glancing down the hall.

"There's some talk going around that's making me concerned," Toby said smoothly, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I'm handling it," Josh replied confidently, shaking his head.

"Are you?"

"Donna's working on it," Josh assured him.

"Should I be concerned that I trust Donna's ability to get it done more than yours?"

"I wouldn't worry about it, it seems like you're in the majority on that," Josh said, making a face.

"Well hey, at least I'm in the majority on _something!_" Toby said pointedly.

"I'm handling it!" Josh exclaimed, as they entered the foyer to the Oval.

"Josh, are we going to have a new Vice-President tomorrow?" Debbie asked, glancing up at them from behind her desk.

"I don't know, but if you're angling for the next shot, for a hundred bucks I can see to it that your name gets bumped to the top of the President's list!" he promised over his shoulder.

"Not if you're late to Senior Staff again you can't," Debbie shot back.

The two men crossed into the Oval, seeing Will and C.J. already there, along with Will and the President.

o-o-o-o-o

"Nice of you to join us," Leo commented.

"Sorry Sir," Josh said, addressing the President and nodding to Leo.

"All right, what've we got," Bartlet replied, waving them to sit down on the couches. He took his seat in one of the chairs, Leo sitting in the one beside him.

"Well, first and foremost today is all about Sabir," Josh volunteered. "I've still got us as six votes down in the House, four in the Senate."

Jed sighed. "So what are we doing? Will?"

Will put up his hands. "Thirty-five original speeches in seven days, Mr. President, twelve of which I've written myself. We're running an aggressive public relations campaign, and we've got his wife flying all over the country making appearances on his behalf, with massive turnout even in traditionally Republican areas – we're working on it. His numbers are steady, even with the rhetoric from the Right. In fact, an online petition for his confirmation hit a hundred thousand this morning, social media is blowing up – I've never seen anything quite like it."

Jed nodded, turning to Josh. "Josh? What's going on with – ?"

"Project Meteor," C.J. supplied, snickering a little.

"I beg your pardon?" The President asked, glancing toward her over his glasses.

"C.J. is referring to my genius plan to shepherd the remaining Democrats back onto our side of the line," Josh explained.

"Does it involve pummeling them with large, flaming rocks?" the President inquired slowly.

Josh grinned.

"Don't get me wrong, I could get behind it," the President continued.

"No, Sir," Josh smiled.

"So what am I missing, what's with the nomenclature?" he asked, gesturing with the folder in his hand.

"It's Project Meteor...because it's going to wipe out the DINOs," Toby interjected snarkily, rolling his eyes.

"You bet it is," Josh laughed confidently, sitting back. Leo closed his eyes painfully. "All right everyone, let's get it together. What's your attack plan?"

Josh sat up straighter. "I've got meetings back-to-back – Taylor, Shields, Jones, Graham, then _Capital Beat_ and the rest of the House this afternoon." He cleared his throat. "I could use Toby with a few of them. I'm looking to play a little Bad Cop, Bad Cop."

"Toby, go with him. We're playing hardball today," Leo commented. "And guys, plan on a late night tonight. No matter what happens, the next two days are going to define the next year of this administration, probably more."

"Mr. President, we could really benefit from the First Lady making a statement," Josh said cautiously. "Her numbers are still off-the-charts – she wouldn't even have to leave the farm, if she were to just make a quick call to a member of the press it would-"

"Abbey's off-the-grid," President Bartlet said firmly. "Her attention's locked on Zoey right now."

"Yes, Sir," Josh replied, and there was an awkward silence.

"Sir, on the subject of Sabir..." C.J. began tentatively. Everyone turned towards her, tense. She sighed. "I'm hearing whispers about an article Danny's working on-" Leo groaned. "It's due online tonight and in print tomorrow morning, just in time to make waves before the House confirmation."

Leo grimaced. "Any word on what we can expect?"

"Not really, Sir. I'm going to talk with him today, hopefully I can get an idea so I'm ready to start spinning tomorrow morning. I just wanted to give you the heads up."

Leo nodded. "Do what you need to do, C.J. That goes for all of you."

"Yes sir."

"All right," Jed sighed, recapping. "Josh, you're going to take care of the defectors. Will, I need you to keep doing what you're doing – amp it up if you can."

"Sir, I'm not sure if that's possible," Will said doubtfully.

"Yeah," Jed said resignedly. "Whose idea was the lapel pin, by the way?" Josh looked uncomfortable, as the President barreled on, rolling his eyes a little. "C.J., find out everything you can about the story, and keep Danny in line if at all possible. Toby, oversee Will's media campaign - and in your downtime you'll be helping Josh with his _astronomically_ cunning plan." He nodded pointedly at them. "I want updates on the hour."

Toby jumped in. "Mr. President, we're also getting a lot of calls about the new numbers on unemployment – we need a statement rejuvenating morale, and addressing the fears of a recession-"

"We're not using that word," Will cut in hastily. "The code word they've assigned is 'bagel.'"

"Oh, for God's sake," Leo mumbled.

"I'm going to be addressing that at my briefing this morning," C.J. replied, ignoring Will.

"All right. We'll be sure to put the message out," the President reassured him. "When you're done with Josh, I want you working with C.J. to come up with the battle plan."

"Speaking of message, Sir, I wanted to talk to you about-" Toby began.

"Unless it's urgent, it'll have to wait." Jed informed him, checking his watch. "I've got the North Koreans any minute. C.J., hang around."

o-o-o-o-o

As he entered the bullpen, Josh declared in wonder, "Is that Donnatella Moss? I hardly recognized you without the magazine glued to your face."

"Josh!" Donna replied defensively.

"Hey, I'm just calling it like I saw it," he smirked.

"That magazine had a very important article in it!" Donna exclaimed, falling into step with him. "I got it from Margaret, you wouldn't believe what they're putting in lipstick these days. The piece I read said that wearing lipstick from the brand _For Her, _which incidentally is among the top _five_ selling in America-"

"I'm definitely listening to this," Josh said levelly, as she barreled on.

"-Wearing it regularly every day for two weeks, exposes you to almost as many chemicals as you'd find if you were a casual _smoker._ I left it on your desk, I think we need to set something up with the FDA, or the NIH, or something..."

"Well, in the face of looming economic collapse and trying to confirm a new Vice-President, I'm glad to hear the safety of your lip gloss is the number one thing on your agenda," Josh said dryly.

"I didn't say it was number _one_," Donna replied, affronted. "I'd already gotten everything in order before I started reading it..."

"Oh yeah? What's going on with Whitmore?"

"I'm waiting for the woman to call me back," she cajoled him. "But here are the numbers you wanted on the NC demographics."

"Thanks," he said, taking the folder.

"You better hurry, you're cutting it close with Taylor," she reminded him.

"On my way now!" He called over his shoulder.

o-o-o-o-o

Back in the Oval Office, President Bartlet stood with his Chief-of-Staff and Press Secretary, awaiting the arrival of their guest.

"You ever play an instrument?" The President asked C.J. with interest, passing the time.

"Ah, no. I took a few lessons, but apparently I possess what one piano teacher referred to as 'a complete lack of any sort of hand-eye coordination'," she replied blithely.

"Are you telling me you're so clumsy it even affects your ability to play the piano?"

"I chose to use kinder words, Mr. President."

He laughed. "Don't take it personally, Claudia Jean. Leo's got a tin ear," President Bartlet shrugged, grinning, as Leo rolled his eyes.

"Mr. President?" Charlie was at the door. "They're here."

"Yeah, send 'em in," Jed replied.

The young musician entered somewhat nervously, flanked by two formal-looking men in uniform who looked coldly at the White House staffers. The pianist, Jai Yung Ahn, paused in front of the group, waiting respectfully to be introduced.

"Mr. Yung Ahn," The President smiled, and they exchanged bows. "It's such a pleasure to meet you. I've admired your work for a long time. Your talent is a gift to us all."

One of the frosty-looking men translated, and Jai smiled modestly, saying something in return.

"He says you honor him, and would like to thank you for inviting him to share his music with you."

"Please, the honor is ours. Allow me to introduce Leo McGarry, my Chief-of-Staff, and C.J. Cregg, my Press Secretary." They shook hands all-around.

"You have plans for the afternoon, sight-seeing?"

"Yes, we will be seeing the Memorial of Abraham Lincoln, remembering the shameful act of slavery, and the Vietnam Wall of Death," one of his handlers replied. C.J. heard Leo stifle a cough.

"Well, if there's anything we can do to make your visit more comfortable, please don't hesitate to let us know," the President said warmly.

"Thank you," Jai Yung Ahn replied, after waiting for a moment so the President's remarks could be translated. "...I may - sign CD?" the young man asked in broken English, a tentative smile on his face.

"I'd be delighted," the President smiled, nodding. Jai turned his back slightly, as he bent over the CD he was holding.

As they left C.J. heard Leo grumble distinctly under his breath, something about "North Koreans lecturing me on war crimes..."

"Leo," the President said sharply. Leo turned to him.

"What's up?"

"It's not an autograph," the President said, staring soberly at the piece of plastic in his hand.

"Sir?" His Chief-of-Staff replied.

"The CD," Bartlet continued. "It isn't an autograph. It's a message."

"What do you mean?" C.J. asked curiously.

Leo took a step forward, C.J. following him and looking over his shoulder.

The President held up the CD speechlessly – across the cover was written "I WISH TO DEFECT".

o-o-o-o-o OPENING CREDITS o-o-o-o-o

"All right, I want to talk to the Office of Immigration and the Counsel's office, and let's get someone from the State Department and NSC in my office," the President declared.

"Sir, this is going to be-"

"Yeah, I know," Jed sighed, nodding at his Chief-of-Staff.

"Sir?" C.J. asked, confused. The President turned to her.

"We've been in secret talks with the North Koreans in Geneva for the past three weeks, discussing their nuclear program."

"Sir, we're not turning him away?" C.J. asked, alarmed.

"Of course not," Jed reassured her.

"Mr. President, there might be other things to consider," Leo interjected stiffly, and C.J. stared at him. "This guy defects, and the talks are over," Leo added insistently. C.J. opened her mouth to respond, but the President cut her off.

"We don't know that for sure. That's why we need to find out. In the meantime, this stays between us. I need you to act normally. Can you do that, C.J.?"

She nodded feebly, staring at him.

"Thank you," he said seriously.

"Thank you, Mr. President," she replied automatically.

o-o-o-o-o

As Toby and Josh entered the Roosevelt Room, they were immediately greeted by the enthusiastic young senator, who stood upon their arrival. "Josh, how's it going, man?" He grinned, patting Josh on the back. "I heard you tore Haffley a new one last week, we all had quite the laugh about it back at the office. I've got a couple cute interns that want to meet you, by the way," he chuckled. Toby rolled his eyes, as Josh situated himself at the table.

"Rick," Toby said formally, seating himself.

"Toby, god, it's good to see you." The senator shook Toby's hand across the table, flashing him a charming smile. "How's Andy doing?"

"She's well. She'll be in for the vote tomorrow."

The smile on the man's face flickered.

"I'm glad to hear that, I know there was some concern that-"

"We're here to talk about why you're apparently not voting for Sabir," Toby said bluntly. The Congressman looked around evasively, taking a deep breath and giving them a reassuring smile.

"Look Toby, I don't know what you've heard-"

"Cut the crap," Josh said sharply. "You knew we were going to find out eventually, not being upfront about it is just icing on the cake. And frankly, I thought you were too smart to try pulling this sort of thing."

"Look, I'm _sorry_," Taylor replied uncomfortably. "I can't do it. I'm a _Democratic Senator _from North Carolina! The midterms are coming up, it'd be all over for me. I have to think about my own future – and don't you think it's better for the Party in the long run if we have more Democrats working the South?"

"You don't think the black voters would come out full-force for you if you endorsed a black liberal candidate?" Toby said incredulously. "Especially once he came out for you in return, after assuming the second most powerful position in the country? We're not just talking about the old ballgame here," he declared, frustrated. "We're talking about the chance to raise the level of debate, to engage more people in the _belief in government_ – this is what we're supposed to be all about!"

Senator Taylor looked uncomfortable. "That sounds great on paper, Toby, but there's no guarantee this fervor is going to keep up – Sabir's flashy, but who knows if it's going to last? Meanwhile, I think there's a pretty safe bet the Republicans in my state aren't going to get any _quieter_."

"How about this-" Josh cut in. "North Carolina has a higher percentage of blacks than the national average. And when you combine African-Americans with Hispanics in Charlotte, they outnumber whites. It's not a question of there not being votes for you!"

Rick shook his head. "I can't do it, Josh."

"You _will_ do it," Josh said firmly.

The senator looked at him impatiently. "No, I won't."

Josh exchanged a look with Toby. "Then we have a problem."

Rick stared angrily at him as he clenched his hands, which were locked on the table. "I know how you play, Josh, and you're not going to intimidate me on this. This is my _entire run_," he said emphatically. "You have to pick your battles in this town. This is a lose-lose for me, but one's a little more personal than the other. You know how this works, Josh, and it's not always inspirational montages and cocktail parties. It's cutthroat choices that _have_ to be made."

"Yeah, thanks, I think I _do _have a pretty good idea how this works," Josh replied, his voice dripping with hostility. "It's you I'm not so sure about. You think you can get reelected in the South without the support of the Democratic party?"

"Well Christ, Josh, I don't know if I can get reelected in the South _with_ the support of the Democratic party!" Taylor stood up, his blood boiling. "I didn't come here to get attacked. I rearranged my schedule as a personal favor to the President, but I think I've made my position clear. I have work to do," he snapped, standing at the door.

"This _is_ your work," Toby said bluntly, standing too. "And I could care less about your reelection, if Sabir doesn't get through tonight! You think fifty years from now anyone's going to remember your name? Trust me, you turn us around on this, you're going to be telling your grandkids all about your exciting six years in the US Senate, before you went back to Bolton, North Carolina, to teach twelfth-grade social studies!"

"We'll be in touch," Josh said shortly, closing the door on the senator's stricken face.

o-o-o-o-o

In the briefing room, thoughts of Jai Yung Ahn's dilemma had been temporarily pushed from her mind as C.J. parlayed with the White House Press Corps.

She looked out at the crowd. "Katie?"

"C.J., is there concern that the current cultural exchange confers legitimacy to the oppressive North Korean regime?"

"On the contrary," C.J. replied. "We're hoping that these exchanges will bring wider attention to their administration, eventually nudging them towards a more open relationship with their people."

"Is it true Jai Yung Ahn is being chaperoned by armed guards?" Katie pressed.

"As is custom, Mr. Yung Ahn was accompanied by a military officer, as well as a translator. They're sight-seeing with him as we speak."

"C.J., what has the President's response been to the unemployment numbers released today, and what are his plans to combat the ensuing recession?" Another reporter called out.

"First let me correct a misunderstanding you have there. The current economic situation is certainly a high priority of the President, however, it is _not_ a recession. For a recession to be in effect, it requires two consecutive quarters of negative growth. That isn't the case here."

"C.J., is it true the President has been pushing for legislation to expand federal funding for social programs, in response to the economic downturn?" Danny called out to her.

"The President is continuing to push for the stimulus package laid out in House Bill 2434, which is still being discussed in committee. His primary goal is to provide a leg-up to allow for the creation of more long-term jobs, although he's also considering strategies to implement temporary aid for those struggling in the meantime," C.J. said smoothly, as the reporters scribbled away on their notepads.

o-o-o-o-o

In the Oval Office, the President was greeting his guests, Jared Barrow of the State Department, his National Security Advisor Nancy McNally, and Oliver Babbish of the Counsel's office.

"Sir, I have to say right off the bat, the very nature of this meeting makes me extremely uncomfortable," Babbish began.

"I know there are some legality issues here, but I need to consider every angle," the President explained, sighing. "Nancy? What've you got for me?"

"It's not good," she relayed. "We've got intelligence confirming the North Koreans met with a representative of Al-Amir Wasem two days ago."

The President sighed. "Agent Barrow?"

"I've brought some pretty unnerving reports for you to glance through, Mr. President," the younger man nodded. "But I'm not sure about the security clearance-" he glanced at the lawyer.

"Here, give them to me, I'll read them on my own," the President nodded, taking the folder and setting it on his desk. "Come on, let's sit down."

o-o-o-o-o

"Danny," C.J. said quietly, murmuring over his shoulder as she passed him on her way out of the briefing room. She crooked her finger, gesturing for him to follow her.

"Yeah, what's up," he said brightly, hurrying to meet up with her.

"You know perfectly well what's up. Into my office." He followed her obediently, and she closed the door behind him.

"What's in the article?" she demanded.

"Good morning to you, too. My day's going pretty well, thanks. Got ambushed by a woman while I was walking down the hall at work, but, hey, overall I enjoy her company, so I didn't mind too much. What about you?"

"Danny, I'm so not in the mood today."

Danny sighed lightly, crossing his arms casually. "It's on Sabir," Danny said after a moment. "Kind of a bio-piece."

C.J. stared at him.

"Oh, _please_, don't feel like you have to tell me too much, I wouldn't want to make you feel uncomfortable," she said sarcastically.

"C.J., relax. It's a good piece. Incredibly supportive."

"You expect me to believe you're writing a puff piece?"

"Well, I didn't say _that_," Danny admitted.

"The administration thanks you for your support. Now, what are the not-so-supportive parts?"

"_C.J._," Danny said exasperatedly. "It's about perspective, isn't it? Sabir is very open about his beliefs, which in itself is a bad thing around here – it suggests naivete. And yeah, being supportive of immigration is fine if you're on this side of the line, but it's not looked on too favorably by the Republicans – _especially_ if the candidate isn't white. I talked about the political ramifications of that, among other things. I'm not dropping any bombs on you though, C.J., so calm down."

"How heavy is it on immigration?" C.J. asked, rubbing her arms uncomfortably. Danny frowned, confused.

"Well, it's not his biggest issue, is it? I just meant it as an example. You're going to want to start thinking about the economy, though, especially with all the recession talk."

"It's not a recession," she said automatically. She sat behind her desk. "Can't you give me anything more specific?" she asked, looking up at him.

Danny paused. "About six months ago, Sabir made a speech on the growing division of wealth. It got a lot of flack, local press was pretty unfavorable, there were comments speculating he was a socialist. Nothing educated minds would take seriously, but -" he put his hands up. "He's a rabble-rouser, C.J." He smiled. "I like the guy."

"You would," C.J. muttered.

"C.J., you don't have anything to worry about."

"And yet, these lines on my face still persist." C.J. sighed. "Alright, get out of here."

"The lines work for you, you know," he said over his shoulder, shooting her a grin. She smiled slightly, as he shut the door behind him.

o-o-o-o-o

Back in the Oval Office, the President and Leo were standing with their guests, immersed in discussion.

"We need to put a lock on this while we figure it out," Agent Barrow said, looking around as C.J. stepped in. "Who else knows about this?"

"Just us, Hal Christenson over in Immigration – and my Press Secretary, C.J. Cregg," the President replied, waving C.J. to sit down.

"What's going on?" C.J. asked curiously.

"C.J., these negotiations are for real," the President said somberly. "I'm strongly considering the possibility that honoring Jai Yung Ahn's request would put additional lives in danger."

"Sir, isn't that inherently a danger when dealing with a deadly oppressive regime?" she asked, her face unable to hide her discomfort at his words.

"I'm telling you, we can't blow something of this magnitude over some kid!" Barrow exclaimed.

"And _I've_ been telling _you_, we can't _not_ do it. It violates _federal and international law_," the lawyer shot back.

"Who's gonna find out?" Agent Barrow stared at him. "You think he's going to tell someone?"

"You think it's acceptable to break the law because we might not get caught?" C.J. reiterated. "What about the fact that this young man – by your own admission, barely more than a kid – asked the strongest nation on Earth for help escaping one of the worst regimes on this planet? Don't you think there's something to be said for, I don't know, doing the right thing?"

The agent stared at her, sputtering. "Who is this again?" he asked, looking around the room. "The Press Secretary? Spare me the sob story, lady, these are people's lives at stake-"

"I'm going to have to ask you not to take that tone in here, Agent Barrow," Bartlet said sharply. "I would remind you that the office you are standing in is the Oval, and you will speak with respect, particularly to my staff."

"Yes Sir," the agent replied. "Sorry," he mumbled to C.J. "My point stands though, Sir."

"And I heard it," the President nodded.

"C.J., sensors on the border have picked up elevated levels of Krypton 85 – the Koreans are making plutonium. We know they've been in negotiations with different terrorist groups throughout the Middle East," Nancy explained.

"I understand that, but you can't ignore the fact that seven North Korean nuclear scientists defected through China last year, and we helped pay for it. These threats aren't new. Are we putting a premium now on people's lives, based on how useful they are to us?" C.J. asked.

"C.J., that's the price we have to pay sometimes," Leo said emphatically. "No one's saying it's not messy or disturbing, but it's the solution we have to consider."

"All right everyone, thanks for your input," Jed sighed, nodding at them. "I've got the economics meeting here shortly, I need some time to mull this over."

"Thank you, Mr. President," the advisors said dutifully, heading to the door.

"Thank you, Mr. President," C.J. echoed.

o-o-o-o-o COMMERCIAL o-o-o-o-o

Josh entered the bullpen, spotting Donna with her eyes glued to one of the television screens.

"...Donna?"

"Yeah," she said distantly.

"Should I send for some popcorn?" He asked, his gaze following hers. According to the caption, Diane Sabir was giving a speech somewhere in Northern California. "Hold on, let me find us a coupla chairs, I think I've got a pillow in my office somewhere."

"_Josh,_" she replied, exasperated.

"No, seriously, I'll call over an intern," he teased. "You want butter, or kettle corn?"

"She's an incredible woman," Donna said defensively, her eyes still locked on the television. "...I haven't met her yet, is she nice?"

"I only got a minute with her, but yeah, she seemed nice," Josh shrugged, popping a M&M in his mouth. "I got a job for you."

"Project Meteor?"

"Yep," he replied.

"How's it going? You striking fear into the hearts of men?"

"You know, I'm offended. Getting votes isn't just a battle of wits or brutality, it's a dance," he said, and she turned her head to face him.

"I've seen you dance. I won't deny it has entertainment value, but-"

"It's like wooing a woman," Josh continued.

"You wooed the 57-year-old male senator from South Dakota?"

"It's a courtship, Donna."

"So you schmooze."

"It's not schmoozing. It's entrancement, it's a delicate give-and-take."

"What's the job you've got for me?"

"I need you to go hound Taylor's office for gossips and people with an axe to grind."

"That's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Yeah. Here, I wrote down the address."

"That was very thoughtful of you."

"I try."

She grinned at him, taking the piece of paper from him as she turned her gaze back to the woman on the screen.

o-o-o-o-o

"Where's my paperwork?!" Toby called out, startling the group of interns who were seated around the conference table in the Roosevelt room.

"Which paperwork?" one of the interns piped up.

"I need the numbers on unemployment!" Toby informed her.

"Sure thing, Mr. Ziegler," the blonde girl nodded, making a note on her clipboard and rising from her chair. "I can print you out another copy right now."

"Hey Lauren," he called after a moment. She turned, looking at him expectantly.

"You're young," he said thoughtfully, as though it was just now dawning on him.

"Yes, sir," she chuckled.

"Well?" he asked expectantly. "Do you think the administration is out of touch with the current economic struggle of average Americans?"

She paused. "Ahh...sir, that's not really for me to say."

"I'm asking you to say," Toby replied impatiently.

She raised her eyebrows. "I'm 22 years old, and nearly forty thousand dollars in debt. I still have law school ahead of me. I have an unpaid internship and I live in a major city, so rent's not exactly a steal. I live in a house with four other girls. I had more privacy and space in my freshman dorm, and I'm still pretty much convinced that room was just a refurbished closet. Does that answer your question?"

Toby nodded.

"I'll go get that report for you, Mr. Ziegler," she told him, smiling wistfully.

o-o-o-o-o

"Leo...while we've got a minute, I really think there's more to say on Jai Yung Ahn," C.J. said carefully, having returned to the Oval Office for the senior staff's meeting with the President's economic advisors.

"C.J., let me make this clear. It's my responsibility to present the President with all possible options, and advise him to what I truly belief is best for this _country_." Leo paused. "Sometimes my job is to be the bad guy – and sometimes yours is to keep your mouth shut. Believe it or not, this isn't easy for any of us."

"I apologize, sir, but with all due respect, I have to disagree."

"You're allowed to disagree," Leo nodded. "But I've heard your dissent, now keep it to yourself."

"C.J.?" The President asked, reentering the Oval. "You're a little early. Or maybe everyone else is late," he said thoughtfully, glancing at his watch.

"Have you made your decision yet?" C.J. asked, turning to the President. Jed eyed Leo thoughtfully, then shook his head. "It's complicated, C.J."

"I appreciate that, Sir – I'm just saying...we sure have come a long way from 'give me your tired and your poor,'" she pressed.

"C.J., you heard what Nancy and Barrow had to say," Jed sighed. "I've got a lot to consider."

"Sir, if this gets out – we're still treading water from the Shareef scandal. Breaking international law could be catastrophic come next year's elections."

"That's not what's bothering you." Jed shook his head.

"No, Sir," she admitted.

"And it's not the legality issue itself, either."

"No, Sir."

"Yeah." The President nodded.

"Sir..." C.J. began. "This young man's asking for freedom. It's what this country was built on – everyone's from somewhere else, somewhere less free. And really, what are we fighting to protect and preserve, if we lose who we are in the process?"

"Thanks, C.J.," Jed nodded.

"Thank you, Mr. President," she replied quietly.

A knock came at the door, and Josh entered a moment later, Toby trailing behind him.

"Have a seat," Leo urged them. "The advisors should be here any minute."

"In the meantime - what's going on with Sabir?" Leo asked, sitting in one of the chairs so he was facing Josh.

"I've got Jones and Graham in the bag," Josh relayed. "Working on Taylor. I think he'll bring Shields either way."

"We need a win tonight, Josh," Leo said, and Josh nodded, dropping his gaze for a moment as he became lost in thought.

"Sir, the economic advisors are here," Charlie said, sticking his head in the door.

"Thanks Charlie."

"Mr. President," the first advisor said, a stocky man in his late forties, shaking President Bartlet's hand.

"Thanks for meeting me today," the President replied, shaking his companion's hand too.

"Well Sir, as you know, we think the Fed is going to be the key solution to this downward spiral," the first man began.

"I disagree," Toby inputted. "I think the heat is building among the bottom retail workers, and we need to at least address the solutions we're facing with unemployment. It's not enough to let the deficit peter back down, we need new momentum."

"We've got the stimulus package in committee," Jed reminded him.

"It's just the beginning, and who knows if Haffley's going to let it see the light of day?" Toby pressed. "We need to get the people involved, make them passionate. They're already angry, let's channel it towards doing some good!"

"I'm with Toby," C.J. nodded. "This shouldn't be a band-aid fix, we should be looking at sweeping reform. And for that, we need to beat Haffley at his own game."

"One step at a time," the President said firmly. "You two are right," he added. "There are no quick fixes. But sometimes you need to stem the bleeding before you go about treating the wound. What were you thinking, Tom?" he asked, turning back to the first man.

o-o-o-o-o

As C.J. exited the Oval Office, she fell into step with Toby in the hall.

"You know what he's doing, don't you?" He asked, by way of greeting.

"He wants to play it safe," C.J. replied, shaking her head in discouragement. "His numbers are down, he's worried about the budget proposal, he wants to save riling up Haffley until he has to. He's still recovering from the whiplash of the kidnapping, and he's faltering."

"It's just – frustrating," Toby commented begrudgingly. "The Republicans are rearing up for a fight, and we're just trying to duck the blows."

"I know. I don't know, maybe he just needs a little more time," C.J. said quietly.

"We can't wait forever! The clock is ticking, and it's past time that we needed to return to message."

"I don't even know what our message is anymore," C.J. answered. They exchanged a look, and Toby sighed, pressing his fingers to his forehead as she continued down the hall.

o-o-o-o-o COMMERCIAL o-o-o-o-o

She moved into her office, flipping through her binder and making a note to herself on the schedule. "Hey Carol?" she called. "I think I'm going to take a working lunch, we ran over in the Oval. Can you order me a Caesar salad?"

"Sure thing boss," her assistant called back. "And it looks like you've got company." C.J. sighed, sitting down and closing the binder.

"Hey C.J., you got a minute?" Danny asked, standing in the open doorway to her office.

"What's up, Danny?" she asked, glancing up from her desk.

He took several steps forward, then stopped a few inches away, his finger tracing the rim of Gail's bowl.

"I'm hearing talk there was some sort of problem with Jai Yung Ahn," Danny said, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"Tell me about a time we had visitors from North Korea and there _wasn't_ a problem," C.J. replied lightly, her head bent now over a briefing folder. "That's what would really be newsworthy."

"Is that why you ran over in the Oval?" he guessed.

"Danny, it was a meeting with the President's economic advisors. You can confirm it with the public record. Are you trying to tell me you're surprised the White House is running behind on the daily schedule?"

"Ah'kay," he said breezily, looking down at her. "You okay? You look tired."

"You really know how to woo a woman, don't you Danny?" C.J. asked, glancing up at him. He smiled. "All right," he replied, heading for the door.

"No, don't go, I'm getting weak at the knees," she called out, and he grinned at her, laughing as he closed the door behind him.

o-o-o-o-o

"What're you doing?" Toby asked, stepping into Will's office. The younger man was leaning forward in his chair, which he'd turned sideways to get a better view of the television screen.

"Trying to figure out if the last week of my life was a waste of time or not," Will said dryly, sighing.

"Only the past week?"

Will waved his hand to hush him. The television was separated into a split screen, with a news host on the left side, and Sabir on the right.

"_Senator Sabir, what do you say to critics who argue that your youthfulness and relative inexperience makes you ill-equipped to hold the Vice-Presidency?"_

_Sabir straightened his posture, with a slight tip of his head as he responded. "Well Maria, I think first we need to clarify what specifically the 'inexperience' is that my opponents are referring to. Is it inexperience in politics? Leadership? The military?_

"_Of course, often the biggest concern is military," he continued. "And I'd be the last person to suggest that it's an issue that's anything but crucial, nor will I pretend to have a long or celebrated history with the armed services," he paused for breath. "But what I do have is the ability to listen and learn, and I'm a firm believer in the importance of good advisers, which we have aplenty. I'd also point out that a significant percentage of both Vice-Presidents and Presidents have taken the office without any such lengthy experience, and still, we remain the country with the strongest military in the world. We're a nation that embraces the necessity of sometimes learning on our feet." Senator Sabir cleared his throat._

"Have you finished your draft of the President's remarks for tonight?" Toby asked, seeming not to notice or care that his arm was blocking the screen from Will's view.

"Just a second," Will replied, distracted as he peered around at the TV.

"_Now let's turn to leadership and governing – I have fifteen years of experience with the United States Senate, and before that I was an attorney and law professor at one of our nation's top universities. I have over twenty years of public service under my belt. Certain Republicans would have you believe that I just woke up one morning and decided I felt like being Vice-President. This is blatantly dishonest, and the kind of partisan rhetoric that puts even thoughtful, engaged citizens off of politics. I want to work _with_ Republicans, but this requires a genuine desire to compromise that I've yet to see in the current Congress." Sabir shook his head thoughtfully, then continued, his voice growing stronger. "I think this leads into the real issue though, which is progressiveness. When such Republicans argue that I'm inexperienced, what they really mean is that I'm younger than most of their leaders, and what they mean by _that_ is, I encompass a very different set of ideals. I believe in change, and the future – I believe in abandoning policies that are unfair or ineffective, and embracing new ideas, and by its very nature, growth requires investigating new and unknown experiences. My vision includes a dynamic and progressive citizenry, and the Republican vision precludes it."_

"He's good," Will commented.

"You didn't give him that line?"

"Does that sound like me?"

"Not particularly."

Will shook his head.

"All right, well," Toby shrugged, blinking at the TV, distracted now. "I want the draft on my desk in fifteen minutes. I've got a list of jokes the staff came up with to give it some spark – if you use any of the piano puns, I will skin you alive." He gave him a soft smile.

"Assuming I can still _read_ them," Will said, looking at the thick black marks where Toby had crossed out whole chunks on the paper he'd just handed him. "Can I say that it's grand for the President to see them all there?" he asked, peering at the paper.

"Fifteen minutes," Toby called over his shoulder, exiting Will's office.

o-o-o-o-o

"_Ladies and Gentlemen, thanks for tuning in, I'm Mark Gottfried, and you're watching _Capital Beat_."_

"Am I late?" Toby asked, closing the door behind him as he entered C.J.'s office.

"It's just starting," she replied, shaking her head, her eyes locked on the screen.

"_Today we have with us an old fan favorite, White House Deputy Chief-of-Staff Joshua Lyman, as well as Oklahoma Senator Harold Tutt, and they're here to discuss the upcoming confirmation of Senator Ismael Sabir, which - for those of you who have been living under a _rock_ this past week - will take place in the Senate this afternoon, and the House of Representatives tomorrow morning."_

_The elderly Senator to the host's left cleared his throat. "Well first of all, son, I don't know if you want to go about calling it his '_confirmation_', now. It's a confirmation _hearing_, and if he doesn't get through this evening, there won't be any need to convene the House tomorrow morning."_

"Oh for Christ's sake," C.J. grimaced, rolling her eyes at the man on the television.

"_Can we get a big round of applause for the Senator's generous vocabulary and civics lessons?" Josh asked, and the crowd tittered._

C.J. shook her head, snickering, as she watched Josh smile glibly on the screen.

"_Now now, let's play nice," the host grinned. "Josh, can you share with us what your thoughts are on the process so far?"_

"_Honestly Mark, I think it's been pretty shameful." _

_Senator Tutt let out an exaggerated sigh, as Josh continued. "As I'm sure viewers are aware, the role of the confirmation process is to investigate a candidate's qualifications and their ability to do the job, not to pass judgement based on _party politics._ For the Senators to make such a biased decision shows a distinct lack of respect for the separation of powers," Josh finished._

"_That's pretty rich, coming from you, Josh," Senator Tutt replied._

"I think there's a difference between agenda-setting by the Speaker of the House and the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES!" Toby shouted at the television. C.J. hushed him.

_The senator continued obliviously. "Now, the Democrats would have you believe that voting against their candidate is an act of dispatriotism. I would argue it's exactly the opposite. Now, with a President with a serious health condition,"_ C.J. and Toby groaned in unison. _"-there's no question that we need to find a Second-in-Command in a timely manner. But we cannot allow a desire for expediency to cloud our vision, and thus put in power a man characterized by weak policy and a shocking lack of experience."_

"_Can you tell us – I'm sure you'll remember – who was the Republican's preferred nominee? Who would you have recommended if Sabir wasn't on the table?" Josh projected._

"_We recommended Bob Russell, under the advisement of Speaker Haffley." The older man nodded._

"_Right. Nice guy, I've met him a couple times now. But please – can you tell us what experience Bob Russell has that Ismael Sabir lacks?"_

"Oh, smackdownnn," C.J. said, holding up a hand for Toby to slap.He patted it gingerly, his chin resting on his other hand as he gazed intently at the television.

"_Russell's got a few more years in the Congress under his belt, sure," Josh continued. "But in terms of what I assume you're referring to – foreign policy, the military and matters of defense – how is Bob Russell, who you admit was your own preferred candidate, superior to Ismael Sabir in the issues you're using as your main criticism of Senator Sabir's competency?"_

_Senator Tutt cleared his throat. "Sabir's policies show that he has a radical agenda and an overreliance on social programs which in the face of a burgeoning recession would be catastrophic to American business-"_

"_But what do his personal views – which you're exaggerating, incidentally – have to do with patriotism, or any lack of it? Ismael's approval rating is holding at 67 percent, are you saying that affirming the democratic process isn't the one of the most key components of American patriotism?"_

C.J. stared at the screen, shaking her head as she took a bite of salad and shook with mirth.

o-o-o-o-o

"That was quite the show you put on for us," Donna said, meeting Josh in the hall near his bullpen.

"Tell me you have something on Taylor," Josh sighed, leading her into his office and shutting the door.

"So, over lunch I met with a woman named Rachel Ehrlich. She's been working as a junior secretary for Taylor's office for about four months now, and she had a _lot_ to say about a certain friend of hers who was a page with her under the Senator two years ago. She's an assistant for a lobbyist now, but she apparently still spends a _lot_ of time at the office."

"You get a name?" Josh muttered.

"It took some grovelling," Donna sighed. "I think she's hoping if we put the fear in him, he'll break it off."

"It wouldn't be the worst idea ever," Josh grumbled.

"Yeah. Well, her name is Jennifer Harrington, and she's 19."

Josh rolled his eyes, sighing and running a hand through his hair.

"All right. Call his office, let me know when he's here," Josh replied. Donna smiled. "Already done. He's waiting for you in the Roosevelt Room."

Josh grinned, straightening his tie. "Follow me. It's time to watch and learn."

o-o-o-o-o

"So, here's how this is going to go," Josh snapped, storming into the Roosevelt Room. Taylor glanced up, startled.

"You're going to do exactly as I tell you to, and you're going to work whatever charisma you've got to get your buddy Shields on board too – yeah, you're damn right I know about that too!"

The man shook his head. "How about you explain to me, and please, do use small words, exactly how I'm supposed to get reelected after helping to confirm a black uber-Liberal whose name most of my constituents can't even pronounce?"

"How about _this_," Josh spit out. "You vote for your _party_ this evening, or good luck getting reelected after the news of your **affair** hits the airwaves." Congressman Taylor sat up, his mouth dropping. "Oh, but don't worry, I'll give you a day to get your _'_affairs' in order before I leak it to one of the many, _many_ reporters I see on a daily basis. The last thing we need at this moment is a blow to the Democratic party, especially considering how the last VP went out."

"Josh, I-"

"Get out of my sight," Josh spat.

o-o-o-o-o

"Any idea what that was about?" Will asked Toby, as they watched Senator Taylor storm down the hall.

"It's Josh's mating dance," Donna explained, from her spot leaning against the wall.

"That is incredibly disturbing," Will deadpanned.

"Come on. Let's go find out if it worked," Toby replied, looking curiously towards the room the senator had just vacated.

"Josh?" he asked, opening the door.

"We need to go see Leo," Josh grinned, stepping by him.

o-o-o-o-o

"What's up?" Leo asked, glancing up from his seat.

"Project Meteor has struck the Earth!" Josh exclaimed. "Who da man?" he asked, putting his hand up.

"You think you got the votes?" Leo confirmed.

"I think I got the votes!" Josh grinned.

"Well, we'll know in about an hour," Jed said, standing and patting Josh's shoulder, a broad smile crossing his face. "But that's excellent Josh."

"Thank you, Sir," Josh replied, smiling in exhilaration as the President took his seat.

"Alright. Let's not, to quote one of my favorite writers, tempt the powers of whatever, high atop the thing," the President declared soberly. "You have the Concert Address for me?" he asked, and Toby slipped him a paper from the folder in his hands. "Just finished polishing it," he replied.

"Excellent. Help Will out with the VP intro this evening, alright?"

"Yes, Sir," Toby nodded, sitting down.

"C.J., what's going on with Danny?" Leo asked suddenly, remembering.

C.J. sighed, pushing her hair behind her ear. "I'm not entirely sure," she said honestly. "He claims it's mostly supportive. I trust him, he told me not to worry." She shrugged half-heartedly. "He did mention we need to keep the economic debate in hand, it could get out of control fast."

"Yeah, the socialism crap," Leo nodded, rolling his eyes a little.

"I think it's more than that. This morning's briefing was a little shaky, we need to be careful not to seem too aloof, out of touch."

"I second that," Toby piped up. "I want to get serious on message from here on out. The second Sabir's done, for better or for worse, we need to make it a priority.

"Josh?" Leo inquired. "You sure about this?"

Josh nodded. "It's done. I'll be up all night prepping for tomorrow, but I think we've managed to leg it over this hurdle."

"All right," the President nodded. "Good work, all of you. Why don't you head on over to the Mural Room, I'll meet up with you when it's time."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you," Josh said, and his colleagues echoed him as they joined him.

"C.J., stick around for a second, would you," The President said, his back now to them as he set the draft down on his desk.

"Sir?" C.J. asked a moment later. Jed turned.

"C.J., these negotiations are the real thing," he said firmly. "I can't allow this defection. I know you disagree, but that's my decision."

C.J. nodded, not meeting his eyes for a moment. "Thank you, Mr. President. It's not so much that I disagree, Sir. It's that I'm disappointed."

She stepped out.

"I'll get someone from State to tell the kid," Leo commented, his voice weary.

"No, I'll do it," the President replied.

"Sir-"

"It's my call, I'll tell him," Jed said firmly. He looked at the closed door. "She okay?"

"I don't know," Leo said pensively.

o-o-o-o-o

"Distract the Gestapo for me," the President said under his breath. Leo nodded, gesturing to Yung Ahn's handlers. "The photographer's going to get some shots of them..." Leo said loudly, leading them away. The President approached the young man on the bench.

"I'm very sorry. I'm afraid I can't allow you to stay here," he said softly. The young man paused, and the President glanced at him. "You have to keep playing," he added gently.

The music started again, gentle and full of sorrow. The President blinked.

"If I try and stay...you send me back?" The young man murmured fearfully.

"No," the President said firmly. He paused. "There are important nuclear talks being held with your country, and if we allowed you to stay, they would grow angry. It might put lives in danger," he explained quietly. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I understand," Jai replied, softly and slowly.

"With freedom comes choice," the President continued. "I won't prevent you from staying. The choice is yours."

"...You know Korean word 'Han'?" Jai asked quietly.

"'Han?'" President Bartlet repeated. "No, I'm afraid-"

Leo coughed behind them, and the President was silent. He smiled encouragingly at the boy and patted his shoulder, forcing himself to laugh jovially as he stood and rejoined his Chief-of-Staff and the musician's handlers.

o-o-o-o-o

"Where are we?" Josh asked urgently, stepping into the Mural Room.

Donna grinned at him. "We're good, Josh. We've got 46 ayes out of 70."

C.J. grasped Josh's arm tightly, her other hand squeezing Toby's.

"Well, we always knew the Senate would be easier than the House," Will said slowly. "Aside from being the majority, they didn't have Haffley breathing down their necks..."

"Forty-eight!" Donna squealed, squeezing Josh's other arm.

"Fifteen of the ones left are Democrats," Will murmured, almost to himself. "...We're going to get it," he realized.

Toby grunted, and Will sat at the table, his face in his hands.

"Deep breaths there, Skippy," Donna laughed. The crowd in the room was buzzing excitedly.

"It's fifty!" Bonnie exclaimed. "Fifty and still counting!"

"What's going on?" The President asked, stepping into the room with Leo by his side.

"Fifty out of eighty," Will said breathily, staring at the screen.

"THAT'S IT!" Josh yelled, startling a few of the interns. "FIFTY ONE!" he shouted, turning to face the crowd, his hands in the air.

"I think some celebrations are in order," Leo grinned, and Josh laughed loudly, pulling Donna into a sidehug. Toby kissed C.J.'s cheek, beaming.

"Hold on, I want to see what the final tally is," Will smiled. "It looks like those speeches paid off," he murmured.

"Hmph. I spent the day _hounding_ Democratic senators to get back onto our side, and the Republicans pulled one over on us," Josh sighed, looking at the television screen.

"Well, you can't say we didn't come out on top anyway," Will laughed.

Josh shook his head. "They caved because they thought Sabir would be easy to beat in three years," he said wearily.

There was an uncomfortable silence, as those who had heard him stopped laughing and cheering.

"We don't know that for sure," Donna said diplomatically. "It was probably a combination of factors. And really Josh, who cares? You did it!"

Josh gave a reluctant smile, obviously still proud of himself.

"And if the Republicans were right?" Toby asked somberly, ever the pessimist.

"Well, that's a fight we'll deal with when it comes," C.J. shrugged, catching the eye of the others and sighing.

o-o-o-o-o COMMERCIAL o-o-o-o-o

Back in his office, Josh's fingers were shaking as he buttoned up his dress shirt over his undershirt. "Aren't you ready yet?" Donna asked, stepping into his office and closing the door behind her.

"I've still got a little buzz," he admitted, giving her a small grin. "I'm not gonna lie to you, I was getting nervous there for awhile."

"Yeah, but that was before you walked all over Senator Hairy-Old-Butt on national television," Donna muttered, helping him finish the buttons and straightening his collar. "Oh, sorry, or was that another one of your courting rituals?"

"You know, you're awful saucy for someone whose boss caught her reading a magazine and watching TV in the same day," Josh remarked, grinning at her.

"Don't remind me. This new lipstick I bought at lunch smeared all over my teeth." She set the tie around his neck. "Does it look okay?"

"You look fine," he chuckled, letting his eyes wander over her lips obediently.

"I have a surprise for you," he threw out, watching her carefully as she worked on his tie. "A sort of celebration gift, and a thank you for all your hard work today." Donna glanced at him.

"Yeah?"

"You know Mrs. Sabir's speaking at that Women of Washington luncheon this weekend?"

"I heard something about that," Donna nodded. "What about it?"

"Did you want to go?"

She looked at him. "Did I want to-?"

He grinned. "I pulled some strings with the First Lady's office. You've got a seat at her table. I put a word in with Diane Sabir's assistant, she's going to be sure to say hi to you after her address."

"Oh my gosh, _Josh!"_ She exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in a quick hug.

"You really are very sweet," she beamed, laying her head against his shoulder for a second before pulling away, still beaming up at him.

"What'd I tell ya?" he laughed. "I've got wooing skills."

She smiled, straightening his tie one last time. "Come on. We're going to be late."

o-o-o-o-o

"Mr. President? Are you ready?" Charlie asked, watching the President stand facing the window in the Oval Office. President Bartlet turned. "Yeah. Let's go."

o-o-o-o-o

The 23-year-old pianist began his first song without prelude, his eyes closed as his fingers danced across the keys.

From his seat in the front row, the President sat silently as the young musician played. It was a song of loss and hope, sadness and beauty.

Behind him, C.J. felt tears forming and tried desperately to subdue it. If it had been just one tear, she could have explained it off as just being moved by the piece, but as the feelings in her chest rose, she knew she needed to excuse herself.

Walking down the hall, she pulled her cellphone out of her bag, punching in a familiar number.

o-o-o-o-o

An hour later the President stood outside the Oval Office, looking out over the grounds from his favorite spot along the portico, a cigarette dangling from his fingers.

"Sir, I'm sorry to disturb you."

Jed turned, seeing his old friend. "What is it, Leo?"

"We got some bad news," Leo said sighing, stepping onto the portico.

Jed turned back to face the night, somehow knowing what was coming.

"Sir, the talks are on hold. The North Koreans didn't like the size of the flags on the tables."

Jed was silent for a moment, then he nodded soberly. There was a heavy pause.

"Leo..."

"Yes, Sir."

He looked his friend in the eye. "There was a better way. There had to have been. Next time, I want us to find it."

"...Yes, Sir." Leo nodded, not flinching from the President's gaze.

The President looked away, taking a drag on his cigarette before continuing.

"He said something to me. The kid. He wanted me to look up the word 'Han'." He paused. "I did. There is no literal English translation. It's a state of mind; of soul, really. A sadness; a sadness so

deep no tears will come. And yet still, there's hope."

"Sir, I think maybe we shouldn't mention this to C.J.," Leo said carefully.

"No." The President paused. "No, she deserves to know," Jed replied, shaking his head. He looked out at the stars. "You mind giving me a minute?" he asked.

"Of course, Sir." Leo nodded, stepping back into the Oval and closing the door.

Jed gazed out at the dark night.

"...I'm disappointed in us, too," he said roughly. He wasn't sure exactly who he was speaking to – a nebulous C.J., perhaps, or himself. Perhaps God. It was a statement of guilt, a last apology to the young man who was already onboard a plane back home, until the next time his government allowed him another temporary respite.

The cigarette dropped to the ground, and Bartlet stepped on it firmly, digging his foot into the hot paper.

The President leaned his back against a pillar and let his head fall onto his hands, his shoulders tense.

o-o-o-o-o

A couple miles away, C.J. closed her phone, wiping a tear from her eye. She crossed into the parking garage, tentatively meeting his gaze as they came face-to-face.

"Hey," she said softly, hugging her arms to her chest. Danny smiled softly. "Hey." He frowned slightly. "You okay?"

She shrugged the question off. "...I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you here."

"Ahh well, I've given up wondering about the unfathomable." He smiled, tipping his head. "Hey, I get to see you. I'm happy to leave it at that."

She bit her lip, taking a step forward. "Danny, I can't promise you anything. And I don't want to string you along."

He gazed at her, his forehead furrowed in concern. "We don't have to talk about it, C.J. If something's bothering you..."

"I wanted to see you," she said softly.

He took her hand, a small smile on his face. "We can just talk as friends," he said comfortingly.

"That'd be nice, actually." She paused, looking into his eyes. "I've got... so much on my mind as it is."

"Sure," he said sweetly.

She shook her head. "There are things I can't tell you," she said quietly.

"We're off the record," he assured her.

"I know."

She hesitated. "There's just been a lot going on lately, and I'm feeling a little...lost lately. And I think you are too."

He surveyed her carefully. "We all get moments of disenchantment, C.J. Your entire administration has been built on hope and idealism, and that's great – you've accomplished some incredible things – but there are going to be times like this." His eyes probed into hers as he continued. "Where something happens and it shakes your faith. It's part of the package. But you'll move on – do more great things," he reassured her, smiling. "I don't know what went down today, or how much is piling up on you right now, but I can promise you, it won't be forever."

She smiled shakily, and she took a deep breath, meeting his eyes.

"Something happened today that broke my heart."

"Well, you've got a good heart." He smiled gently. "It's good that you let it break when it needs to." He squeezed her hand. "Hey, today was a win. Sabir's going to pass, C.J."

She shook her head. "It wasn't a win, Danny."

"You'll turn it into a win." He gave her a small smile. "And whatever the Republicans' motives were, it was a big deal for a whole lot of people, who usually don't have much to celebrate."

"And if things go wrong tomorrow? We're back at the drawing board. I just...I don't know what I'd do if we got someone like Bob Russell." She felt another tear forming, and swallowed angrily. "These are moments that should be - _reenforcing_ my belief in what we're accomplishing, not throwing us off-track." She closed her eyes for a moment. "We're at a crossroads. It's always been a challenge, it's _supposed_ to be hard – but Danny, I just...I feel like I still don't know which battles I'm supposed to be fighting, and which ones I have to leave alone. And I'm starting to think, maybe the others don't know either."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"I just want to do good," she said softly, looking at him longingly.

He smiled at her. "I know." She met his eyes.

"I want to kiss you," she said suddenly. Danny hesitated, his breath suddenly caught in his throat. She took a step closer.

"C.J., I don't want to take advantage – you're not thinking straight," he said gently, gazing at her.

"I'm thinking fine," she said huskily, taking another step. He blinked, feeling her hot breath on his cheek. Her fingers brushed his, and his breath whipped out of him as her blue-gray eyes bore into his.

"You know, I give you a lot of grief," she laughed softly, "-but I don't think you realize I'm your biggest fan. I love what you do. Your work - you're so good at it. It's so important," she said wistfully. Her hands slipped under the shoulders of his sports jacket, sliding it off. He shivered at her touch.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely, his eyes still locked on hers.

"I'm going to kiss you now," she informed him, her eyes growing hooded.

"C.J., you're upset-" he argued weakly. "We don't have to talk about this now."

She put her finger to his lips. "Just let me have this moment," she said quietly. He was silent, watching her, holding his breath.

The fingers of one hand wrapped through his, the other hand resting on his chest as she used his suspender strap to pull him closer. His hand wrapped around her waist as she pressed her lips to his, her breath hot on his face as she sunk into him.


End file.
